The Anatomy of a Heart
by BlossomOfSnow
Summary: Dr. Kurt Hummel, cold and pessimistic after his mother's death, holds out no hope for anything other than medical science. That is, until he meets one Blaine Anderson.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hi everyone! This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction. I've had this idea for a while now, and I've only gotten around to writing it. This chapter is an introduction of sorts, and I'm posting the second chapter along with this so you can tell me if it's any good. Let me know what you guys think and thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Also, English isn't my first language.

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A body at rest remains at rest unless acted upon by an outside force. This is the law of inertia under Newton's laws of motion. And as true as it is for physics, and everything the naked eye can see, it is also undeniably true for a person's emotions.

A man stays the same, with the same ideologies and the same principles unless he experiences something life changing—something from the outside world that affects the way he views certain things. Without experiences, whether good or bad, a man is not dynamic, and remains stable and steady in the way he views the world. Without these forces, whether tangible or imaginary, everything in a man remains constant. Unchanged. Kurt Hummel is no exception.

Before death and tragedy, or rather, without death and tragedy, Kurt Hummel would have remained in an oblivious bubble, unknowledgeable about certain universal truths he probably could have been spared from for a couple more years. He could have lived in blissful oblivion, indifferent to the reality of pain and suffering, toil and heartache, especially that which entailed losing someone as vital and quintessential as a parent.

When Kurt finally understood how his mother had died, how a disease doctors knew little to cure had taken over her frail form and caused her to expire, Kurt knew he wanted to be a doctor, forcing him out of a bubble and indelibly altering the way he viewed the world. He knew he could make a change, a difference, his perseverance fueled by something entirely personal. He wanted to find a cure, the cause hitting so close to home that sometimes, thinking about all the people suffering from the disease, and the anguish it left their families in, made him physically ill. But he was Kurt Hummel, and if he could find that his hands were capable of one day alleviating the pain from many a family affected by the disease that took his mother away, he'd have been fulfilled.

Early on, when he'd understood the gravity of the situation, and the implication of losing his mother on his life, he vowed he'd pioneer rigorous research, finding a perpetual cure for it.

_Breast cancer_.

For most people—people who've never been remotely affected by a diagnosis of the nature, the idea is intangible. One can't quite grasp the reality of such an illness. It remains something people campaign for, lobby for, spend their lives barreling for awareness, but never really something that means _something_. The concept is foreign. And yes, people support it, but unless you've been affected so intimately by it, the concept remains a concept. The statistics remain statistics. And the disease, and the idea of being affected by it, remains so far fetched that it hardly matters how people survive through it.

Research has been underway for years. When Kurt's mother was inflicted by it, the research was raw and immature, the road to find a cure larval and heartbreakingly unpaved. The doctors could only do so much to prolong young Mrs. Hummel's life enough to have her only son understand a couple of things.

First was that she would always love him, and that she would always remain in his heart despite something as magnanimous as mortality. Second was that Kurt's father would not abandon him, and that life goes on despite hurt and pain and death. It didn't matter how loss hit a person; life continues and continues and does so until time has turned the pain into a dull ache. Third was that he was strong and was to remain strong, and that no amount of hate could ever take away his chance at happiness. He would have to keep afloat to stay on top of that happiness—happiness he would have to find, but it would be worth it. And finally, that no matter what the world said, no matter what the world thought, no matter what the world did, there was _nothing wrong with him_. He would go places because he was smart and sweet and levelheaded, capable of loving a great deal and compassionate and determined and infallible.

She made sure that he understood that different didn't necessarily mean wrong, and that even if people hated him for who he was, she and his father would love him unconditionally through everything. And that no matter what Kurt did, or ended up becoming, she would always, _always_ be proud of him. He was meant for great things, she knew that early on.

Kurt didn't entirely comprehend what she meant by all of it until that day in freshman year, almost six years after her death, when he was shoved unceremoniously against a locker and hatefully called a fag by a Neanderthal from the football team. That was when he realized what he was, able to put a word to sum up the confusion he had been rallying through, and when his mother's words finally made sense to him after all these years.

He was gay. He accepted the fact almost as soon as he realized it for himself. But he quickly learned that the people around him weren't as accepting as he would have wanted them to be, and that hateful slurs and slushies and dumpster tosses were only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the way he was discriminated based on his sexuality. Coming out to his father had been a tremendous relief, knowing that he accepted him for who he was. But in school, where things were hard and unrelenting, no relief could be found.

The things he went through in high school had taught him to be strong. Every blow molded him into the person he was now—courageous, witty, sarcastic, but also a little cold of heart. He had turned into a cynic, only pressing hope on two things he deemed infallible: his family, which now included Carole and Finn Hudson, and the looming cure for cancer. But for everything else in the world, he was a pessimist.

Yes, he could find beauty in small things and appreciate them, but years of self-preservation had made his heart a little harder than most people his age. His only solace after a day of arduous research was music—something vital, even in high school when he joined glee club and gained some of his only friends. But for everything else? For the world being a little more accepting, or for the idea of ever finding true love and acceptance and ridding the world of hurtful ignorance? He was not hopeful. Not at all.

He'd always been on full speed ahead mode, his head wrapped so tightly around the idea of getting to a position where he could change things soon that it was reflected well in the way he graduated high school early, got into NYU for undergrad and finished top of his class, and then got into Columbia for medical school, again finishing top of his class. He didn't care much for being sociable. All he cared about was getting through each day until he was in a place to start _doing_. To start being productive. That said, he'd never been in a relationship—only quick flings that scratched his sexual itch once a while, and even that was so far gone. Romantic love was as just a foreign concept to him, as cancer was to people who've never been directly affected by it, or as homosexuality was to people who were ignorant and narrow-minded.

To the world, he was cold. And maybe he was. He was viewed as ambitious and determined, without care for developing any of the other aspects of his life save for his credentials. Only his family and his high school friends knew what he was working towards. Only they understood why he was the way he was. And quite frankly, that was all that mattered to him. The whole world didn't need to know his convictions, or how near and dear he held his research, or how personal the cause meant for him. They didn't need to know, and he didn't bother to elaborate any of it in an attempt to defend himself from people who called him almost inhuman.

So when days were extra hard, and his heart felt heavier than usual, he'd pop open a bottle of beer, put his show tunes play list on full blast, and plop down on the couch of his 5th avenue apartment, and repeat his mother's words of reassurance like a mantra.

He didn't need anybody else but himself.

But he was so, entirely wrong.

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Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2A

AN: So this is the first part of the second chapter for you to get a better idea of the feel of the rest of the story. :) Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Virulence factors are those that which allow certain bacteria and viruses to become effectively pathogenic to humans. These factors ensure a species' survival despite ambient environmental conditions. An example of a virulence factor is a spore. Spores are so resilient that they are able to resist high temperatures, acidity and cleaving, allowing them to survive even in the most adverse conditions. It's strange to think about it, and Kurt's only thought about when he's feeling particularly philosophical, but Kurt Hummel's strength as a person may be akin to the tiny, microscopic organism.

A spore.

Kurt Hummel is a spore. Despite its size, and the impression of harmless existence, just like the spore, Kurt Hummel was resilient and effervescent. And just like the spore, he was irrepressible, often subjected to harsh conditions but emerging still stronger, a force to be reckoned with. He was quiet, and unnoticeable, but extremely powerful, able to cause much upheaval if he so chose to with his perseverance and diligence. Yes, Kurt Hummel was a spore.

xxx

Kurt was part of a well-oiled research team. He answered to an old philanthropist who was funding the whole research, and whose wife died of breast cancer some years back. He was a prominent figure in the team of doctors, with a multitude of other doctors whose expertise in oncology and genetics allowed them the knowledge to work through finding a cure, Quinn, well _doctor_Quinn Fabray included. The foundation was built on the premise of not only finding a cure, but finding ways for prevention, as well as counseling for families afflicted by the disease.

He devoted majority of his time to research, foregoing a private practice all together because earning a handsome sum wasn't exactly his goal. Kurt was a radiation oncologist, but he was undergoing a molecular genetics fellowship in order to stay afloat in research. That alone had earned him the respect of many in his field. For despite his seemingly cold behavior towards everyone but his patients, he had genuine bedside manner, sincere compassion and dedication, and an insurmountable amount of talent that made every man attempting to bring him down hold down their tongue. His mentors were eager to teach him all that they knew, and his peers respected him despite his snappy attitude. But nobody knew just how lonely Kurt really was, not that they ever gave a thought about it, and not that Kurt ever dwelled on it. Kurt was always so detached emotionally that the only time he would admit to being lonely was when he was tucked in his old bed in Lima during the Holidays, or whenever his father would call him from the garage and ask him how he really was in his gruffly worried voice.

But yes, Kurt Hummel was a lonely man, whether he acknowledged the fact or not. The last time he was sincerely happy was probably when they won Nationals in his senior year in high school. But every other achievement? Every other plaque or medal or recognition? They all brought no real joy—only a superficial smile to his face, and maybe quiet pride over his father's own. He knew that joy and relief would only come when he finally fulfilled what he set himself out to do: find the ever-elusive cure. And although it seemed close to impossible now, the idea vague and the eventuality a dream, they were getting closer and closer everyday.

Adjusting his tie around his neck, Kurt walked off the elevator and smiled briefly at the secretary at the front desk before making his way to his office. The building was an open expanse, an informal and laid back environment for research—very unlike every other corporate establishment in the area. Kurt didn't necessarily mind it, but he much preferred the structured laboratories located deeper in the building.

"The new oncology fellow is coming in today, Dr. Hummel," Elise, his personal secretary said as he set his briefcase on the table and hung his lab coat by the door.

Kurt nodded. "Is Quinn available to show him around?"

Elise clicked her tongue as she fiddled with a pen on one hand, and a file on the other. "Dr. Fabray is back in Lima for the week, sir. Something about a Noah Puckerman?"

"Ah," Kurt said in recognition. "Of course."

Over the years, he and Quinn had developed a stable (and maybe odd) friendship. Kurt was friendly with the other colleagues, and warm sometimes, too, but for the most part, he was emotionally detached. They were all mere acquaintances, his friendships with Quinn and Rachel and Mercedes the only ones that really mattered these days. And with Quinn around everyday at the office to make sure Kurt didn't turn into a robot, Kurt supposed what he had was enough.

"Will you be able to show him around the facilities?"

Kurt pursed his lips, trying to recall his schedule before deciding a little time off from the laboratory wouldn't be so bad. "Yes," he replied shortly.

Elise nodded, smiling. "Quite a dashing young fellow," she continued, almost gushing, setting the new doctor's files on Kurt's desk. "He came in last Saturday. Very charming, too."

Kurt had to smile at Elise. Elise was a dear old woman, her gray hair up in a bun and her glasses resting lightly on the tip of her nose. In the afternoons, Kurt would faintly hear her hum old songs to herself as she typed away in her computer. She cared very dearly for Kurt, and loved him like a grandson, even if for the most part Kurt reciprocated stiffly and awkwardly. Her ardent wish was for Kurt to find someone who would value him, and love him. Someone who Kurt would love enough to allow him to be steered away from late nights at the office, studying karyotypes tirelessly.

"Charming, huh?" Kurt asked amusedly, taking the file and flipping it open to reveal the picture of a dapper looking young man, his black hair gelled impeccably and his toothy smile a dead giveaway of his seemingly flirty attitude.

"Blaine Anderson," Elise smiled, looking knowingly at Kurt. "Very much a gentleman." She paused, trying not to smile. "Also very gay," she added as an afterthought.

Kurt shut the file with a click, eyes widened as he looked at Elise. "And you know this how?"

Elise chuckled, her shoulders shaking slightly in mirth. "Can't an old woman have her suspicions, Dr. Hummel?"

Kurt rolled his eyes but smiled good-naturedly at her. "Be that as it may, Elise, I don't see why you deem it fit to mention that fact."

"Come now, Kurt," she chided lightly. "I think it's time you settled down, had some fun. You're not getting any younger."

"I'm thirty. I have plenty of time to have fun," he answered petulantly.

"But you never leave this place, darling," she argued. "It'll do you good to get out there and date."

"I'm not really sure I'm ready for a relationship right now, no matter how superficial the relationship might be."

"No one's ever ready, dear—it takes away all the fun. But when you meet the right person, you'll know."

"Bit of a fairy tale don't you think?" he asked wryly.

"Oh, hush you," Elise said, still smiling. But just like that, the topic of Kurt's relationships, or lack thereof, was dropped. "Dr. Anderson is coming in at noon today. Show him around. And then maybe grab some lunch together," she winked, exiting the room right after before Kurt could put another word in.

Kurt stared after her retreating form before shaking his head, leaving the file forgotten on the table as he prepared himself for the day. There were reports he needed to review, and laboratory cultures he needed to check on, and he wanted to be done before noon so he could show Dr. Anderson around. He wouldn't deny that he was good looking for that would be an utter lie. But the fact of the matter was that he was restless until he found his purpose, and any sort of distraction would hinder him from achieving his goal. If Rachel Berry knew what she wanted and fought tooth and nail to make it big on Broadway, the same determination can be found reflected in Kurt and his desire to find a cure.

It was with that thought that Kurt proceeded to bring out a big report, a review on the month's recent findings and how to go about it. Two hours through, he sighed and headed towards the laboratory, flinging on the protective gear and entering, flashing a wary smile to Todd, another doctor working in the laboratory.

"Todd," he greeted, sliding into a seat adjacent to the blonde man teasing something on a petri dish.

"Hi, Kurt," he greeted amiably, a sterile wire loop in his right hand.

"What have you got today?" Kurt asked, gesturing to the dish.

"Just some new growth," he answered, turning back to the dish and teasing the sample gently. "I'll run it through the PCR machine today and we can read the results this afternoon."

Kurt nodded approvingly before he moved to the incubator and pulled out a test tube rack. He made his way back to the table and set it down, eyeing the color change within the tubes.

"Where's Quinn?" Todd asked, keeping his eyes carefully on the dish he was working on.

"Back in Lima for a week. The baby daddy's got some issues," Kurt explained, undoing the cork on one of the tubes.

Todd nodded, pretending to act as casual as possible. "Are they...?"

Kurt chuckled, leaning back a little. "Relax, Todd. She's not gonna go flying back into Puck's arms. She's since set some standards for herself, and Puck definitely doesn't fit any of those."

Todd sighed in relief, but tried to keep it hush.

Kurt chuckled again. "Don't be afraid to ask her out."

Todd's head snapped up in surprise, blushing a little at Kurt's words. "What?"

"Look, everyone can tell you have a thing for her. Ask her out. She doesn't bite. She likes Italian food, and loves yellow roses. Her days off are Tuesdays, but something tells me you knew that already," Kurt smiled knowingly.

Todd continued to stare before a small, shy grin spread on his face even through the blush. "Thanks, Kurt."

Kurt shrugged and turned his attention back to the test tubes. He studied them for the remainder of the time, not noticing how fast the hours flew by until Elise came knocking through the lab, her mask on for protection.

"Dr. Hummel? Dr. Anderson is here," she announced behind the mask.

Kurt looked up at the announcement, a little astonished. "Already?"

Elise nodded in the affirmative. "It's noon."

Kurt checked his watch before he realized that yes, it was 12:00, and that he'd have to let go of the microscope and head out. With an imperceptible sigh, he returned the tubes to the incubator and walked to the scrub room, taking his gloves and mask off and scrubbing his hands.

"He looks very handsome today," Elise gushed as she stood beside him, the hinting in her voice very thinly veiled.

He rolled his eyes and dried his hands properly, only vaguely cursing the residual smell of latex on his hands. "Yes, well," Kurt replied. "Let's not keep Dr. Anderson waiting any longer."

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Let me know what you guys think! Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 2B

AN: Thanks for the reading the first two chapters, guys! Blaine finally makes an appearance in this one, and it's got the ball rolling. Do let me know what you guys think! Thanks so much!

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything.

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Kurt had squashed down the idea of pursuing a career in theater or fashion almost as soon as the bullying at his high school started (and escalated). At that time, all he wanted was a career that could prove to the stupid Neanderthals at his school that he would make it big—bigger than any of them would ever make it in this life. He wanted something challenging and worthwhile, with as much social relevance as being a police officer, or a firefighter, or the president, and he wouldn't get that flouncing on stage or sitting behind a desk designing. Oh, he'd still dream about it once in a while, but never anything serious. He'd go see Broadway shows with Rachel, and buy a ridiculous amount of designer fashion, but that was as far as it'd go. He was a medical doctor, and he was damn proud to be one. The idea of not making something out of himself pained him more than the subtle longing to be doing something less demanding, less stressful, less cold and sometimes impersonal.

But there were moments when he wished he'd taken acting a little more seriously, like right now—seeing Dr. Anderson for the first time, to conceal the way his cheeks flushed at how handsome this man was. He was about ten paces away from Dr. Anderson who wasn't really looking at him, but some picture on the wall, and Kurt struggled to compose himself enough to look presentable, putting on a neutral expression as he and Elise neared him.

"Dr. Hummel, this is Dr. Anderson. He'll be joining our research team from now on," Elise introduced, smiling at Kurt. "Dr. Anderson, this is Dr. Hummel, one of our very dedicated researchers here at the foundation."

Said doctor Anderson flashed him a winning, warm smile, extending his hand for Kurt to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Hummel. I'm Blaine."

Kurt reached for his hand, ignored how warm and inviting it was, and shook it. "Pleasure's all mine, Dr. Anderson," Kurt replied, granting him a small smile.

Blaine grinned before letting go of Kurt's hand, keeping his gaze fixed on Kurt's eyes, quizzical and searching. They were big and blue, brimming with a life full of stories, but also with sadness Blaine almost missed if it weren't for his uncanny ability to spot it anywhere.

"Dr. Hummel will take you around the facility to get yourself better acquainted," Elise smiled, gesturing between the two doctors.

Blaine nodded, reluctantly removing his gaze from Kurt's to smile sweetly at Elise.

"And if you haven't had lunch yet," she continued, "Kurt will be glad to take you to the corner deli where—"

"Okay! Why don't we start that tour hm?" Kurt interrupted, shooting Elise a shocked expression before ushering Blaine away from Elise's amused laughter, ignoring the faint heat on his cheeks.

Once they were a good few feet away, Kurt straightened up and strained a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry about that."

Blaine chuckled amusedly. "She's um... Quite a character, isn't she?"

Kurt nodded with fondness. "She is," he agreed.

"I like her."

Kurt smiled and led Blaine to a wide corridor, the white walls reflecting the light from the picture window at the end of the hall. "So, Dr. Anderson—"

"Blaine, please," he interrupted kindly. "Dr. Anderson is my father."

"Okay, Blaine," Kurt said, experimenting on the name on his tongue and fighting the way it seemed to roll off easily. Clearing his throat, he continued. "This building is pretty much the whole foundation. It houses everything from labs to research to offices and counseling sessions."

Blaine nodded, trying very hard not to notice the way Kurt's voice sounded confident, and maybe slightly mechanical (or rehearsed, he wasn't sure). He was such a mystery, one he was very compelled to unravel.

"Right now we're walking through the labs," Kurt continued, unaware of Blaine's thoughts. "On the right you have the labs for genetics, everything under the microscope. Everything big and macro is to the left," he explained.

Blaine tilted his head to view the labs, the windows enough to give a peek of the goings on behind it.

If there was one thing Blaine Anderson was, it was that he was _welcoming_. He was also warm and kind and friendly, compassionate and funny, but more than anything, he was welcoming. He welcomed everyone into his heart with much enthusiasm, winning them over with his smile and easy charm. He was also extremely perceptive. But Kurt Hummel was a serious case to crack—friendly but uptight at the same time, keeping people at arm's length. It confused Blaine to no end, not acknowledging the fact that he barely knew the man for him to even draw conclusions, until he'd settled upon the word Kurt was. He was _cordial_, and maddeningly so.

By the time they had gotten to the third and last floor, where the conference rooms and offices were located, Blaine had to sigh. There was a thick wall around Kurt. He left no room for discussion about anything personal, something that threw Blaine off because he liked asking slightly personal things in order to warm up to a person. It was all about work, and Blaine longed to get to know him more for some inane reason. For his eyes alone, Blaine wanted to spend every waking moment with him, which sounded utterly ridiculous because they've only just met. But he was drawn. Kurt, with his porcelain skin a stark contrast to his blue eyes; Kurt with his eloquent and formal speech, seemingly cold but undoubtedly lonely; and Kurt with surely a million of stories behind his cool exterior—he wanted to get to know him. For some unnamed reason, he wanted to bring those walls down. Maybe it was his nature, or maybe he felt a spark when they shook hands or when their eyes first met—he wasn't sure. All he knew was that Kurt Hummel intrigued him to a point of quiet desperation.

"And over here, the left wing, are the offices. Your office is right across mine," Kurt gestured as he stopped and stood right in front of the office door.

Blaine stepped forward and opened the door, surveying the space, bland save for a big desk and a picture window.

"It looks like I'll have a lot of design freedom," he commented, turning around to smile at Kurt.

Kurt shrugged from where he stood by the doorway, a small smile on his lips. Smiles were infrequent visitors to his lips, especially ones caused by total strangers, but this man had the uncanny ability of softening him. Kurt didn't like it.

"So... Dr. Hummel," Blaine continued, a little unsurely.

Kurt frowned at the title. "I suppose... you can call me by my first name. It seems ridiculous for a colleague to address me so formally."

"Okay," Blaine grinned, taking a step towards Kurt.

"Call me Kurt."

With a triumphant smile, Blaine took another step forward. "Kurt," he repeated. "That's a nice name."

Okay, maybe he was flirting.

Kurt raised a perfectly arched brow at him before shrugging noncommittally. "Sound of Music," he said offhandedly.

"Oh... You're a fan of musicals?"

"My mom was," Kurt answered before he could stop himself. "But that's entirely beside the point."

Nodding, Blaine turned around and surveyed the room again, smiling in awe as he realized this was where he would be working from now on. "So... Care to show the new guy from work where the best coffee is?" he asked, maybe a little flirtatiously, but mostly just trying to find a reason to spend more time with Kurt

Kurt stared, and for a second Blaine thought he'd decline, but he shrugged. "Just let me grab my coat," he answered, smiling slightly as he turned to his office.

Blaine felt instantly triumphant.

When Kurt emerged, they wordlessly made their way out of the building and around the corner, Kurt leading Blaine to the place he usually got his morning coffee.

Kurt stepped up to counter, greeting the lady behind it warmly.

"Hi, Rosie."

"Hi Dr. Hummel," the girl, maybe around 19, greeted back. "The usual?"

Kurt nodded. "And a um..." he turned to Blaine a little unsurely. "Your coffee order?"

Blaine smiled and turned to the counter, addressing the barista. "A medium drip, please."

Blaine was pulling his wallet out when Kurt beat him to it and paid for both their coffees wordlessly.

"I could've—" he protested, but was cut off by a wave of Kurt's hand.

"Consider it a welcome present of sorts," Kurt smiled sincerely before he stepped away from the counter to claim their coffee at the end of the bar.

Blaine stared at Kurt's back, bewildered, before he shook himself to clear his thoughts and led them to an empty table.

After a moment of awkward silence, Kurt cleared his throat and met Blaine's questioning gaze. "So what brings you to the foundation?" Kurt asked in an effort to clear away the awkwardness and start a conversation.

Small talk. _Great_. "The cause hits a bit close to home," Blaine explained as he adjusted the sugar in his coffee.

It wasn't unusual for the people working at the foundation to be relatives of those affected by breast cancer, which was why Kurt nodded, unsurprised, waiting for Blaine to elaborate.

"My grandmother died of it, and my dad's been doing research stuff as well."

"Your dad's a doctor too?" Kurt asked casually.

Blaine nodded in the affirmative. "Thomas Anderson."

A low whistle followed by a raised brow. "You're the son of Thomas Anderson? He was my professor in Columbia," Kurt replied, slightly astonished. Thomas Anderson was very well known in the medical field, often published in medical journals for his contributions to cancer research. In much the same way as Thomas Anderson, Kurt's thrust was to find not just a cure because lord knows people have emerged well and healthy after a battle with cancer—but a cure so much so that no one had to die because of it; that death isn't an option and survival is sure.

Blaine chuckled before taking a sip of his coffee. "Yeah, that's him all right."

"Did you go to Columbia too?" Kurt asked, his eyes narrowed as he tried to remember if he'd ever seen Blaine before.

Blaine shook his head. "Johns Hopkins. Took my undergrad at OSU to be closer to my mom."

Kurt pursed his lips in thought. "Your mom is from Ohio?"

"My parents are separated. My dad and I see each other plenty, but I grew up with my mom in Westerville."

"So you went to high school in Westerville?" Kurt asked, thankful that the conversation was about Blaine and not him. He always had a general dislike for talking about himself, especially when things started to get personal. At least now, talking to Blaine about Blaine, he can play the whole getting-to-know-the-new-guy card instead of making excuses about sharing information about himself.

Sure, he'd volunteer some stuff on occasion, but those things were platonic and inconsequential. He'd learn later on that nothing was inconsequential to Blaine. It still baffled him that he agreed to grab coffee with Blaine in the first place, but something inside him wanted to genuinely get know Dr. Blaine Anderson in a way he hadn't felt in years—not since college when he found himself genuinely interested in a guy who turned out to be an asshole.

Blaine, unaware of the trail of Kurt's thoughts, nodded. "Dalton Academy," he answered. "Some of the best years of my life, actually."

Kurt smiled. "The school sounds vaguely familiar. I believe we competed against them for Regionals."

"Regionals?"

"Show choir competition," Kurt explained. "The Warblers, was it?"

Blaine nodded with a sudden burst of excitement. "Yeah, the Warblers," he responded giddily. "Wait—you're from Ohio too?"

_Get with the program_, Kurt wanted to say, but he bit back the retort and cocked his head to the side. "Lima," he said. "I went to McKinley."

_What a small world_, Blaine thought, trying to imagine Kurt Hummel in Glee club. "I was part of the Warblers, actually. We may have competed against each other."

"I wouldn't really be surprised if we did," Kurt answered dryly, but it was lost on Blaine.

"Well, what year did you graduate?" Blaine asked, interested, leaning forward in his seat eagerly. He wasn't about to mention that he was the lead singer, but any talk related to the Warblers always warmed his heart.

Kurt fidgeted slightly in his seat, desperate to steer the conversation back to Blaine. "2012."

"I graduated 2013," Blaine grinned as he realized that once before, he and Kurt had been in the same room, competing on the same stage. "I mean, I was held back a year so we're probably the same age—"

"I skipped a grade," Kurt said off-handedly. "So I graduated early. But we're likely the same age."

Blaine paused and then smiled, glad that Kurt was slowly opening up, volunteering information about himself. But to Kurt, that was probably as far as it would go.

"So..."

"So you got held back a year," Kurt said, not giving Blaine a chance to ask about what he had just shared. "What happened?"

A brief flash of sadness crossed Blaine's face, one that wasn't lost on Kurt. Kurt would recognize that slightly haunted look anywhere—he'd seen it countless times reflected in the mirror when he was bullied in high school. It wasn't hard to pick up on the emotion reflected in someone else's eyes if you saw it everyday for what seemed like an eternity.

"I uh..."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Kurt said quietly as he sensed Blaine's hesitation.

Blaine shook his head. It wasn't a subject he was necessarily reticent of, but it wasn't something he shared without a little hesitation. "No, I uh... I got bullied," he said simply, averting his gaze to the coffee nestled between his palms. "It got so bad my freshman year, and I was beat up at some Sadie Hawkins dance I went to with the only other gay kid in school." And then as if an epiphany occurred to him, he looked up at Kurt with an unreadable expression. "I'm gay, by the way. I hope that's... Not a problem."

"It's no problem at all," Kurt answered, smiling kindly. "I am too."

Relief washed over Blaine's expression, the lightness in his heart increasing along with the desire to get to know Kurt Hummel more. "Anyway, I got beat up badly and I had to take the rest of the semester off before I transferred to Dalton. They held me back a year."

Kurt nodded in understanding, feeling his heart tug in sympathy. "How'd your parents take it?"

Blaine shrugged, but a wistful smile graced his lips. "They were supportive. My mom cried for days after the attack, and my dad sued both the school and the kids who did it. They're very accepting."

"That's good," Kurt said kindly, trying not to imagine a life with a homophobic set of parents. He wouldn't wish that on anyone, especially not on sweet, kind Blaine.

It was in that moment that Kurt realized how much in common he had with Blaine—how, if Kurt ever allowed it to come to that point, Blaine would be able to relate with him and understand him. The thought terrified him, and he realized he needed to guard his heart a bit more. It wasn't that he was afraid to get hurt. He was just afraid of getting sidetracked, of anything or anyone distracting him from his goal. He held out very little hope that he'd find someone to love—and not even Blaine Anderson could change that. Not yet, at least.

"What about _you_?" Blaine asked.

"What _about_me?" Kurt asked snippily, his voice turning cold instead of squeaking unsurely at being put in the spotlight.

But Blaine was unfazed. "Were circumstances kinder on you then? What's _your_story?" he asked, taking a long sip of his coffee as he watched Kurt with expectant eyes.

Kurt pursed his lips, wondering if he should share, and how much of it he should. He was almost tempted to snap a sharp retort about assuming he even had a story to tell, but he swallowed it down. He hadn't thought about high school in a while. The memories were shoved in a box at the back of his head, gathering dust in favor of pro oncogenes and what have you. But the kindness in Blaine's eyes, and the idea of sharing something of years ago seemed innocuous enough, so he shrugged and answered.

"My dad was very accepting. When I came out to him, he told me he knew since I was three when I asked for a pair of sensible heels for my birthday," he replied a little laughingly. "He said that it didn't change the way he loved me," he concluded, smiling wistfully and making a mental note to call his father tonight. "School's an entirely different story though. If being in Glee Club doesn't put you at the bottom of the food chain enough as it is, trying being gay and out and proud _on top_of being in Glee Club."

"Must have been a nightmare," Blaine said sympathetically even though he had a hard time imagining why Glee club could be a club full of losers. The Warblers were like rockstars!

Kurt shrugged. "I survived though, didn't I? If any, it made me more determined to get to where I am now."

Blaine nodded in agreement. "It's good fuel for success. Case in point," he said, gesturing to Kurt. "I've read a couple of articles about the research you've done. You're the reason I decided to join this particular research team. Your work is phenomenal."

Okay, so maybe, maybe Blaine was trying to butter Kurt up, Kurt thought, but he couldn't help the blush around his neck at the compliment. "Yes, well. You'll be a good addition, I'm sure, especially being the son of Thomas Anderson."

Blaine frowned slightly, hating it when people put him under his father's shadow, or tried comparing them. It made him feel like he was just his father's son—as if he didn't have any achievements of his own. But he smiled kindly at Kurt, knowing he meant well, and just shrugged wordlessly.

"Which isn't to say that you'll always be 'Thomas Anderson's son'," Kurt continued. "You're your own person, and I believe you have much to contribute all on your own."

Kurt meant it, but he didn't know what had possessed him to say it. He didn't exactly notice the frown on Blaine's face—wasn't even in sync with the man's emotions. But he decided he didn't care if he'd be rewarded with that dazzling, sincere, _grateful _smile Blaine was wearing right now.

* * *

Thank you for reading! =)


	4. Chapter 3

AN: Thank you for reading the previews chapters, guys! This one's the longest one so far. :)

* * *

Spontaneous combustion is a phenomenon that sets an object to flames without an external ignition. It is theorized in humans as well, but is not explained well in nature, which was why Kurt was a skeptic of the theory. For if looks or something else entirely unexplainable could set a person or thing on fire, the file on Kurt's desk would by now be a grand and glorious flame. Spontaneous combustion be damned.

He glared at the file which contained everything he needed to know about one Blaine Anderson while he mentally cursed both himself and the doctor. Being friendly with colleagues was one thing, but blushing and feeling the need to get to know one personally was a different matter entirely.

He didn't understand. It was coffee. One measly hour of coffee over at his favorite place, and yet the man he had only just met had a serious effect on him. And Kurt couldn't afford that. He was a cynic, and he truthfully believed that life outside of the office, outside of the laboratories, was hindrance from driving himself to his goal. Some rational part of his brain told him it was unlikely—that he was allowed to live and hope and be free. But he stubbornly refused. He had spent his entire life building up walls and false pretenses and goals to keep him focused, and no man could simply jump in his path and make him swoon.

Oh dear god. He was _swooning_. For stubborn as he was, he was not completely heartless. He may be cold and hard, and incredibly difficult to crack, but he was human too, capable of feeling human emotion. He was just very good at stepping on the emotions once they bubbled in the pit of his gut.

With a sigh, he gave in and reached for the file, flipping it open. He reasoned that his curiosity was more for the fact that he needed to know the people he was working with. He was the team leader, after all, and it was his responsibility to make sure the man they were going to be working with didn't have any criminal offenses, or odd kinks, or any personality quirk that could prevent them working as a cohesive team. Yes, he reasoned. That was exactly why his mild interest turned into sheer engrossment upon merely the first page of the file.

Blaine Anderson, MD. Oncogentics fellow. Graduated top of his class at OSU. Bachelor of Science in Biochemistry. Johns Hopkins School of Medicine, with a residency in Internal Medicine from the same school. Runs a private practice in New York City, and is, glaringly, handsome. And single. Glaringly, gloriously _single_.

His achievements on paper were impressive. Kurt's brow was raised as he surveyed Blaine's scholarships, his undergraduate thesis, his personal essays, and a bunch of other documents that uplifted his resume enough to leave Kurt speechless. Blaine Anderson was indubitably talented, and a fine addition to the team. Honestly, the foundation was lucky to have him.

But what struck Kurt most was the idea that despite this man's countless achievements, he remained modest and approachable, charming, and open to building personal relationships with the people around him. He wasn't cold or closed off or walled up like Kurt was. The years of studying and learning and experiencing arguably depressing circumstances didn't turn him into an automated pilot, not in the way it did Kurt.

He pursed his lips, his eyes trained on the smiling photo of the dashing Dr. Anderson, and wondered how he had done it. Sure, Kurt wouldn't exactly change himself—it was his choice to be this goal-oriented in the first place. But Blaine seemed like the man Kurt probably would have been had life not been so unkind to him—full of zest but determined, sharp and witty, and kind, too.

Closing the file and setting it on his desk, he promised himself that one day, he'd open his heart out too. One day, when his dreams had been fulfilled, he would. But not right now, not when they were teetering so close to the edge of finally, finally finding a cure.

xxx

For Blaine Anderson, however, it was a different story. He had walked back to the foundation with Kurt, and now found himself behind his desk in a depressingly empty room. That would change soon, he knew, but his surroundings certainly weren't helping him with his thoughts about the mysterious Kurt Hummel.

He wasn't lying when he said he'd read about Kurt in various publications. Kurt was well known in his field, and his advancements in cancer research provided hope for so many across the globe. It was one of the reasons he joined this particular research team. But the medical community was thriving with gossip too—and he had heard through the grapevine that Dr. Hummel was a fierce, cold-hearted bitch that willingly distanced himself from any human relationship. It was harsh, and Blaine knew better than to believe everything he heard. The proper Dalton man would not pass judgment so quickly on a person, he reminded himself. But he soon realized that just as he thought Kurt was warming up to him, he completely walled up and steered the conversation to something more neutral, effectively ending any sort of discussion that wasn't inconsequential.

It wasn't rocket science to deduce that Kurt, socially stunted as he was, put up the boundaries around himself for a reason. Blaine didn't know what those reasons were, but he wanted to. He wanted to get to know him—to stare into his blue eyes, memorize his features and—

No. He couldn't. They had only just met. He told himself that the fascination he was feeling was only due to a combination of things: the fact that this was the Kurt Hummel and the fact that this was his new co-worker. His fascination was not because Kurt was beautiful, was not because the air of mystery around him lured Blaine in, and certainly not because he remotely liked him as more than a person, or a possible friend. No, it wasn't that. Or at least that's what he told himself.

And that was how it happened. In the week that followed, Blaine had settled in nicely into his office, a warm couch sitting at the far mocha-colored wall, pictures lining his desk, and his organized files stacked neatly against another wall. Tacky as it was, he had his diplomas hung up, and a fresh bunch of flowers resting in a white vase that his mother had sent to him a couple of years back. His office was very him—homey and warm and welcoming (a stark contrast to his actual home with a bed he rarely slept in, although that's a story for another time).

But despite the warmth within his office, the outside felt just as cold as when he had first arrived. Oh, the people were lovely, yes. He had met Dr. Quinn Fabray when she returned, and had gotten know the staff quite well. He'd join them for lunch, and even made plans to watch a game with some of the guys the following weekend. For the most part, he had settled in well. But one Kurt Hummel, who either seemed a recluse in his office, or a man stricken with the bubonic plague in the corner of the laboratory, only offered him small, kind smiles within the week, interlaced with quiet good mornings and anything of equal pleasantry.

That was when Blaine concluded that Kurt distancing himself was a regular occurrence. None of the other doctors knew Kurt as more than an acquaintance, the exception being Quinn because she was the only one who knew him even before medicine. Kurt seemed to enjoy silence, and valued his independence so fiercely that he'd much rather work alone in his office during the day, and enter the laboratories as soon as everyone was filing out in the afternoons, ensuring that he could work in peace, than interact with everyone during regular hours. It baffled Blaine that someone could live so separately from everyone else. The only time Kurt ever seemed to connect with other people was during the team meeting every other day, where he remained friendly and civil, but formed no real bond with his co-workers. He basically redefined the expression "no man is an island" entirely.

On the first day of Blaine's second week, he found himself sitting in the boardroom beside Quinn, bright and early, waiting with the rest of the doctors for Kurt to arrive. It was one of those meeting where they recapped their findings, and discussed the implications on the entirety of their research.

Tapping on the lid of her coffee, Quinn arched a brow and looked questioningly at Blaine. "You seem lost in thought."

"It's early on a Monday morning," Blaine countered, smirking. "If I seem to be lost in thought, it's thoughts about my bed, which I don't seem to see enough of. And sleep, which I don't get about 97% of the time."

Quinn chuckled dryly. "You'd think that years of being a doctor would've reprogrammed your body to function on little to no sleep."

"Oh, it has," Blaine hastily reassured. "I just wasn't able to get some decent shut eye last night. My next-door neighbors were jumping each other like a bunch of sex-crazed, hormone-driven teenagers all night. The bed kept slamming into the wall."

Quinn winced sympathetically, as if to say _I'm sorry_. "You should have called them out."

Blaine shrugged. "I didn't want to cockblock them, the same way I don't want to be cockblocked when I'm feeling like a sex crazed, hormonal teenager."

Quinn laughed appraisingly. "So that means you're one of the few of us who's actually getting some?"

Blaine shook his head, chuckling a little in disappointment. "Being a doctor doesn't really leave you much time for that." Getting laid on a regular basis sounded almost close to impossible with the hours he kept. Even the very act of _meeting _someone seemed close to impossible because he almost never left the hospital—what more getting laid?

"Not even a quick fuck?" she inquired, her brow raised.

"I'm more of a long term relationship type," Blaine explained thoughtfully. "Still waiting for the right guy."

"Hm," Quinn replied. "You're not the only one."

Licking his lips, Blaine wondered if Quinn would be opposed to satisfying his fascination with Kurt. He'd play it off cool, of course, though he was pretty sure Quinn would see right through it. He figured there was nothing to lose, and she didn't seem the type to judge him for it.

"Hey Quinn," he asked quietly, his voice upturned in the end.

Quinn tilted her head to look at Blaine expectantly. "Yeah?"

"I... Kind of have a question."

She raised a brow at him again. "Okay?" she said on a slight laugh.

Blaine paused and met Quinn's gaze. "About Kurt."

For a moment, Quinn's expression was unreadable before a sad but almost amused smile crept up to her features. "What do you want to know?" All of the new fellows seemed to have some level of curiosity regarding Kurt, so Quinn wasn't exactly surprised that Blaine was asking.

Everybody else in the room was engrossed in their own things, leaving Blaine and Quinn's quiet conversation private. Blaine didn't exactly want everyone to know that he was thinking about Kurt, and definitely didn't want to give them ideas about the nature of those thoughts.

Shrugging, Blaine continued. "I don't know. I guess... Is he always the way he is?"

"What? Aloof and stand-offish?" she asked curiously.

He shook his head. "No, more like... With a compulsive need to be ferociously independent... And left the fuck alone," he tried, wincing a little at the glorified description.

Quinn snorted, bemused. "That's one way to put it. A creative way of putting it, actually. Did Dalton Academy teach you to use such flowery words?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Shut up, I'm serious," he said, even as he blushed just a little bit.

Turning serious, Quinn straightened up in her seat and shrugged, her index finger tracing around the coffee cup lid as she spoke. "Yeah, I guess he's always been like that. I mean, in high school he was a little warmer. Now it just gets harder and harder to get through him."

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked, his attention now fully trained to catch all of Quinn's words.

"It's always hard to figure out what goes on in his head," Quinn explained. "The way I understand it, he puts his head over his heart—completely driven and entirely uninterested in... I don't know... Relationships of any kind except for his family and the little number of friends he has."

"That's... Actually pretty sad."

Quinn nodded in agreement. "Can't really say I blame him though. He's gone through some crap."

Blaine considered her words for a moment before he licked his lips. "Would it be too personal to ask what kind of crap he's been through? Other than the bullying—he mentioned it my first day."

Furrowing her brow, Quinn met Blaine's questioning gaze solidly, narrowing her eyes. "Why are you so interested?" she asked, suspicion evident in her tone. Yes, people were curious, but there was something different in Blaine's queries.

He thought about lying, about justifying his questions as "the new guy's curiosity"—trying to learn the ropes and all. But he usually wore his heart on his sleeve, his emotions an open book. Quinn easily could have called him out on his dishonesty. But more than that, he wanted to be able to trust Quinn, and Quinn to trust him. It was a dynamic quintessential for any friendship.

"He's... Intriguing, I suppose," he answered lamely, settling on the word even if it sounded wrong.

"By intriguing do you mean you're interested in him? Because Blaine, I've never seen him actually date. He's dated a couple of guys in college, but none of them were ever _enough_."

"Enough?" Blaine asked. Enough for what? Enough for him?

"Enough to get him to slow down," she said, as if the answer was obvious. "No one's ever gotten close."

_Oh_. "So... He's not in a relationship of any sort, then?" Blaine clarified slowly, earning a mildly amused look from Quinn. He prayed his voice didn't sound too hopeful, betraying thoughts he hadn't had the time to process just yet.

"No... But good luck being the first to crack the code. If you haven't noticed already, he's a little too cold for someone as warm as you."

Blaine frowned. "I really don't want to allude to metaphors, but ice kind of melts in the presence of heat."

Quinn chucked dryly, trying not to wrinkle her noise in disdain at Blaine's poor attempt at justifying. "You like him?"

"I... Don't really know," Blaine answered unsurely. "I mean, I know nothing about him. My only opinion of him as of the moment is that he's...intriguing, like I said."

She nodded. "None of these guys have real opinions of him beyond his unquestionable talent," she said, gesturing to the staff dispersed around the room.

"He must be really lonely then," he commented as his eyes scanned the roomful of doctors, more to himself than to Quinn.

"I don't doubt that," Quinn said. "I try everyday to get him to loosen up, but it takes a lot of effort." She didn't say that it was exhausting, because that was sort of obvious.

Blaine wondered if he possessed the same patience Quinn had. She had stuck with him for such a long time, not giving up and trying her best to understand the little intricacies of Kurt's personality. He wondered if he had the capacity to warm Kurt up, just a little bit, and be just as good a friend (if not more) as Quinn was.

"Anyway," Quinn continued, "you can try getting to know him. If you're lucky, he'll let you in."

But before Blaine could reply, the door burst open to reveal a tired looking Kurt, smiling warily as he set his briefcase on the table, making apologies for his tardiness.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Kurt said as he removed his jacket. "There was an emergency at the hospital this morning."

Only Quinn and Blaine noticed the hint of sadness in Kurt's voice as he took a seat at the end of the broad table.

"Todd, do you want to start us off?" Kurt questioned, turning his body to Todd, and effectively filling the room with a no-nonsense air, tensed and relaxed almost at the same time.

When the meeting concluded, Blaine trailed right behind Quinn, who stopped by Kurt's side as everybody filed out of the room.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice gentle and motherly.

Kurt offered her a tired, sad smile. "Yeah. Just a rough start to the week."

She rubbed his arm sympathetically. "What was the emergency?"

"A patient of mine died today," he said as he gathered his things. "Her immune system was too compromised from the chemo. Arrested early this morning."

Blaine pursed his lips and watched Kurt from where he stood behind Quinn.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. But don't lose hope," he heard Quinn say to Kurt. "Soon enough, you won't be running to emergencies of that nature because you've figured out how to stop them from happening. Hang in there."

Kurt smiled appreciatively, before he looked past Quinn and met Blaine's compassionate, concerned eyes.

"Blaine," Kurt greeted, his intonation upturned in the end.

"Hi, Kurt," he answered dumbly, knowing it was probably stupid to greet him a good morning when it obviously wasn't. He mentally debated if he should offer his condolences, but before he could add anything else to the statement, Kurt was already turning to leave.

The three had started to walk out of the boardroom and to the elevators when Kurt addressed Blaine again.

"I trust your first week went by smoothly?" Kurt asked. "It's not very difficult to adjust to the set-up around here."

"Oh, everything's great," Blaine replied, flashing him a reassuring grin. "Everything's great, thank you," he repeated.

Kurt nodded in approval. "Good," he said, pleased, before he turned his attention to the elevators as they opened and allowed them to step in.

"Are you going to Lima for the weekend?" Quinn asked, looking directly at Kurt.

He shrugged. "I haven't decided yet, actually. I may or may not."

Blaine felt just a little awkward being alone with Quinn and Kurt. Quinn was trying desperately to be warm and gentle while Kurt was just simply not reciprocating of the caring attitude. He wondered, though, what could possibly be in Lima that weekend that made Quinn's questioning sound too gentle, too sad.

But Quinn nodded in understanding, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Kurt's cheek lightly, a gesture that made Kurt stiffen, but relax and smile after a second. "Well, if you're not going to Lima, my couch is open for visitors. I got a couple of bottles of beer in the fridge and a DVD of The Sound of Music. We can call Rachel and make a night out of it."

"Thank you, Quinn" Kurt replied, smiling slightly as he stepped off the elevator and walked briskly to his office, leaving Quinn and Blaine in his wake without another word to either of them.

The two remained standing by the elevator, watching Kurt's retreating figure. And then without turning to look at Blaine, Quinn said, "His coffee order's a non-fat mocha in the mornings. But on days that he needs a little more comfort, he likes a sinful serving of hot chocolate with just a hint of cinnamon and a dollop of whipped cream on top." And when she finally turned to see Blaine's bewildered expression, she smiled sweetly. "You seem different than most, Blaine. Good luck."

_And may the odds be ever in your favor_, Blaine thought of adding offhandedly, thinking it would've have been a perfect ending to the conversation. But before he could joke about it, Quinn had already turned away to make her way to her office, leaving Blaine just a little too confused about the information she had handed over to him.

For the rest of the day, Blaine tried to bury his nose underneath piles of research to keep his head off of Kurt. It was silly. He couldn't comprehend the way he seemed drawn to the man. He couldn't explain it. Logically he knew that things like love at first sight didn't exist. He was a doctor, after all—a scientist governed by the laws of the universe, governed by logic and physics and equations. His emotions were always a separate entity from his science, only mingling when he was dealing with patients. But now, he couldn't quite grasp whatever it was he was experiencing.

For some unknown reason, there was a magnetic pull drawing him closer to Kurt, urging him to stare deep into his eyes and unravel the mystery shrouding him. He recognized off the bat the potential to fall in love with him, that even without his slowly evolving obsession, he knew he could fall hopelessly in love with the man. It was strange, surreal and unexpected. Yes, he was looking for a relationship, but he wasn't expecting to find it here, at this point in time, in his career—especially not in the form of a doctor bordering on robotic.

Not that a relationship was guaranteed, really. That would be counting his eggs before they hatched. He'd have to earn Kurt Hummel's trust before he thought too deeply of his growing emotions. And that in itself was difficult.

It was with that thought that Blaine decided he'd take a chance. Quinn hadn't whispered Kurt's coffee order for nothing. It was a proverbial push in the right direction because for some inane reason, she saw Blaine's potential to make Kurt happy. She recognized the glint in his eye, a flicker of determination just like Kurt's, but warmer and more inviting.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how perfect they were for each other. He may not have known Kurt well, but he knew enough to compare them. They were alike in so many aspects—in their goals, in their genuine care for patients, in their love for music, and in their ability to remain strong and resilient despite the crap the world threw at them. But they were opposites too, and Blaine knew he could smooth out the creases in Kurt's personality, complementing them as he knew Kurt would for him.

For instance, where Blaine was kind and friendly, Kurt was cold and cordial. Where Blaine preferred the intimate company of friends, Kurt preferred silence, being left alone in a corner with nobody noticing. Where Blaine craved for human affection, for touch and emotion, Kurt was entirely detached and stiff, unwilling to open up. And where Blaine held out hope for the rest of the world, Kurt remained a cynic, choosing only to hope in what he strongly believed in.

Glancing at the clock hanging on the wall, Blaine decided he'd grab Kurt a cup of coffee and return to the office in time to see the rest of the building's occupants leave, calling it a day. He would walk to the laboratories where he knew Kurt would be, laboring over a new leg of the research just when everybody was gone, to be alone. He'd offer him the cup of coffee, and hope against hope that he wouldn't be so opposed to engaging in mindless chatter with him.

And that was how it went. At quarter to four, Blaine stepped out of the building and walked to the coffee shop, ordering Kurt's nonfat mocha. He decided Kurt didn't need the hot chocolate just yet—maybe somewhere in the future when he'd gotten to know him more. For now, the coffee would suffice. With a charming smile to the coffee girl, he left the shop, strode back to the building and rode the elevator, stepping off at the correct floor.

He only barely caught Quinn as she was leaving, holding out the two cups of coffee to show her.

Quinn smiled in delight. "Good luck," she whispered in approval. "He's working on some karyotypes right now."

Blaine nodded, flashing her a nervous smile before he set out to the labs. Good, he thought. Karyotypes were dry laboratory activities, which meant he could take the coffee inside and offer it innocuously to Kurt. He wasn't sure what his excuse was for staying in late. Kurt would surely give him a signature brow raised in suspicion.

But deciding he'd go with whatever happened, he pushed the door open with the back of his shoulder, making sure to keep his hands upright as they held the coffee cups.

Kurt was sitting on a high stool, the karyotypes spread before him on a table well lighted by a bunch of bulbs underneath it. He looked up just as Blaine cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly.

"Hey, Kurt," he greeted, cursing his voice for sounding higher pitched than normal.

Obviously, Kurt wasn't expecting anyone to be joining him, but he masked his surprise well. "Blaine," he said dryly. "You're working late today."

Blaine nodded at the observation, making his way to the stool adjacent Kurt, setting the coffee down in front of him. Kurt eyed it suspiciously, but Blaine ignored it and said "Yeah, I wanted to see if I could help you out on the karyotypes. You know... As part of my fellowship requirements."

Kurt did his signature brow raise before narrowing his eyes. "And you brought coffee," he stated.

"I did," Blaine grinned. "I did bring coffee."

Kurt would by lying if he said he wasn't touched by the gesture, but he was also taken aback and very, very suspicious. Kurt may not have known what was going on in Blaine's head, or his intentions, but for himself, he knew what Blaine was. Blaine was the man he seemingly could not stop thinking about lest he buried himself in work. Thinking about Blaine made him entirely unproductive, and he'd been avoiding any real contact with him since he started working with them. Top that with the crappy way with which he started his morning, and he was in a sour mood, a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

"Hmm," Kurt hummed, regarding the cup of coffee.

"It's just coffee, Kurt. I figured you'd need it since you tend to work so late in the night," Blaine said, sensing Kurt's apprehension. The tension was palpable, and he could almost feel the way Kurt was building up walls around him.

There was a pause before Kurt nodded, smiling crookedly at Blaine. "Thank you," he said curtly, before bowing his head to turn his attention back to the karyotype.

Blaine bit his lip as he shifted in his seat, studying Kurt's head of brown hair with a contemplative look. So. Now what? With a sigh, Blaine tentatively reached for a karyotype and brought it before him, his eyes scanning the shapes.

"Do you work late often?" Blaine asked casually, praying that Kurt would latch on to his proverbial extended hand.

Kurt looked up, mildly annoyed, meeting Blaine's questioning gaze. "Yes," he answered, before turning back to his work.

But Blaine refused to be fazed. "On karyotypes or just work in general? I know there are a ton of sequences you go through everyday."

Biting his lip to keep from lashing out, Kurt took a deep, calming breath and looked up, smiling sweetly at Blaine. "I function best at night," Kurt answered, his voice stoic despite the saccharine smile on his face.

Blaine had to bite his lip to keep from giggling. Kurt's demeanor was dripping with irony and sarcasm, and Blaine wouldn't deny that it fueled him, turned him on, actually. He found it amusing and endearing, realizing that getting on Kurt's nerves would be a good way to work him up and show a little more emotion.

"Oh, so do I," Blaine said after a moment, ignoring the exasperated sigh he thought he heard Kurt expel. "There's something relaxing about working late into the night, with only empty coffee cups and the sound of crickets keeping you company."

"Yes," Kurt replied dryly, fighting to stay polite. Blaine was getting on his nerves with his dashing dapper conversation and his mildly annoying attempts at getting Kurt to speak. Could the insufferable man not take a hint?

Laughing lightly, Blaine continued. "Although I must say I can't do that _every _night, not in the way you do. You're very... Dedicated."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt looked up again and smiled wordlessly before he decided he'd ignore Blaine Anderson. There was a reason he preferred to work at night—it was so no one would bother him, or pester him with nonsensical chatter and awkward conversations. Really, he was doing everyone a favor by doing his work independently, sparing them from the decorous urge to make small talk. He didn't need that. He didn't need the polite attempts or the distraction. He needed silence and concentration.

When Kurt didn't say anything, Blaine bit his inner cheeks, deciding he'd barrel his way through anyway. "I admire it, actually," Blaine said, trying a different tactic. "You seem very focused and committed. And your hard work always seems to pay off—you advances are phenomenal and—"

Kurt groaned, slapping his hands on the table top. "If this is your way of making small talk, Dr. Anderson, I'll have you know that I do not appreciate it," he said evenly, checking so that his tone remained so. "There's a reason I cloister up in here after everyone's left. I like to work in peace. So if there's something that you need from me, please, just spit it out now so I can go back to what I was doing and you could leave and save both of us from any more awkward situations."

The irritation seeped through in the way Kurt spoke, glaring slightly at Blaine who was taken aback by Kurt's outburst. So shocked was he that he unceremoniously blurted "Go on a date with me," before blushing as he realized what he had just said. But he wouldn't take it back, not by a long shot. True he could have said it a bit more smoothly, but it was out there. _Go on a date with me_.

Kurt for the most part was shocked—and appropriately so. His jaw fell slightly, his brows shooting him. That was entirely unexpected, and he had to remind himself to breathe. What the actual fuck?

Just. What?

When the surprise wore off enough to make Kurt react, he furrowed his brow and whispered harshly. "_What_?"

"You heard me. Go on a date with me," Blaine said, more energized and encouraged even as his heart beat erratically in his chest.

"Wh- what is wrong with you?" Kurt asked, his voice back. "You know nothing about me and yet you're asking me out on date."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "That's usually why people go out on dates—to get to know each other," he said, then he thoughtfully added, "And I do want to get to know you."

"Dr. Anderson, you're delusional if you believe I'm going out on a date with you, or anyone else for that matter," because no. Just. _No_. He was entirely blindsided by the fact that Blaine actually wanted to get to know him. Kurt hadn't been avoiding him for nothing. He didn't want distractions and he sure as hell didn't need it in the form of Blaine Anderson audaciously asking him out on a date. He would admit that it was brave of Blaine to do so, but the fact of the matter was that he didn't understand Kurt's principles—one of them being that every relationship would be detrimental to him and his progress.

"Why not?" Blaine challenged, not backing down. Kurt had regained his footing after being blindsided, but it didn't mean he couldn't corner him and get him to agree. Kurt may be stubborn, but he certainly wasn't the only one.

"I'm not interested," Kurt said, though he knew it was a lie. He was. He was definitely interested in Blaine Anderson. "And I'm not looking for a relationship."

"It's just a date, Kurt. We're not going to get married."

"Yes, well," Kurt blushed, a little flustered. "You don't strike me as the one night stand, no strings attached kind of guy, so no."

"But—"

"No, Blaine. I'm not going out on a date with you. I appreciate the offer, but you know me well enough to know that my life revolves around this office, this project. No one has ever been able to steer me clear of my ambitions, and you most certainly will not be that man."

There was a sense of finality in Kurt's voice, something that told Blaine not to push it—not tonight at least. He'd had a bad day, and he sounded tired, and maybe even defeated. Blaine would step back for now, but not forever.

There was a long pause before Kurt sighed, pursing his lips and rubbing his eyes. "Now, if that was all you came to ask," Kurt said, his tone formal, "you may go. Thank you for the coffee."

Blaine stared, frowning a little before he, too, sighed and stood up, grabbing his own coffee cup. "Fine. But this isn't over, Kurt," he said, offering him a small smile before turning to leave.

It was then than Kurt decided that Blaine was fucking insane. He was suicidal, even. No one had ever had the guts to ask Kurt out, at least not any of his colleagues. They all knew Kurt's opinion of relationships—they're hard work, taking great amounts of effort to keep afloat—effort that he could channel to do something more productive.

Glaring at the coffee cup, Kurt mentally cursed himself and Blaine. This was not how things were supposed to go. Having a relationship with someone, let alone someone he worked with— _let alone someone he had only just met_— was entirely out of the question. The fact that Blaine was remotely interested in him didn't help the attraction he himself was feeling, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. It wasn't that he was terrified of getting hurt. He was simply programmed not to believe in anything but his science, and maybe his father's love for him, and his immense love for his mother. Anything outside of that, anything implying that he should believe in things too intangible for science to prove, had rang the alarms in his head.

But Blaine Anderson, who had the nerve to bring him coffee and ask him out on a date—he was slowly inching his way within his personal space without even trying. For even if he didn't ask him out, even if he wasn't interested in him, Blaine was everywhere, saturating his head in ways he stubbornly didn't want to entertain. And he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't.

More than his pride, more than his compulsive need to keep his guard up the whole time, Kurt wasn't willing to commit, wasn't willing to hurt anyone based solely on his inability to feel. It was like being in the military his whole life, essentially forgetting how to be human entirely in a way that was detrimental to the people around him. He couldn't just unlearn the way he had lived his entire life, and he wasn't sure he could learn new things and incorporate new, foreign concepts in his life, especially when he wasn't ready to.

And the more he thought about it, the more he realized how detached he was from reality, and how lonely he was in whatever limbo he'd subjected himself to. But he wasn't about to throw himself over the first man who was brave enough to ask him out.

With a sigh, Kurt decided he wouldn't be able to get work done tonight, too bothered by the turn of events to concentrate. He stood up, picked up the coffee and made his way back to his office. He tentatively took a sip of the liquid, smiling sadly when the familiar taste of his favorite nonfat mocha filled his senses, dismissing the quiet burst of bittersweet emotion in his heart at the idea of Blaine knowing his coffee order.

He couldn't do this.

He wouldn't.

On his way out of his office, after collecting his things and turning the lights off, he threw the coffee cup still filled to the brim into the trash bin, deciding that right now, it wasn't worth it.

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So what do you guys think? Let me know! Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 4

AN: Thanks for reading the past chapters, guys! Let me know what you think of this one. This is relatively short. :)

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The cerebrum is the part of the brain responsible for man's structured thinking. In this anatomical part, logic and reason reside, assisting man in basic activities such as decision-making. It is here that Blaine's neurons seemed to always short circuit, leaving him what he liked to call a man of impulse. After all, you only get to live once. Going for it is fair game.

Blaine prided himself in being spontaneous and impulsive, but tactfully so. If his gigs at theme parks and the King's Island Christmas Spectacular back in high school didn't prove that, then maybe his impulsive idea to get the Warblers to serenade some guy at The Gap would convince anyone of his true nature. Yes, Blaine Anderson usually acted before thinking things through, but aside from that horrible experience at The Gap, all his other exploits had turned out sufficiently well.

But now, _now_ he can add last night to his list of totally cringe-worthy exploits. He couldn't fight the need to squirm or grimace or smack himself in the head or hit his forehead against the wall every time he so much as thought of how he had unceremoniously asked Kurt Hummel out on a date. It was ridiculous! Usually he was smooth and nonchalant about those sorts of things, but _no_, last night he just _had _to be an idiot and blurt it out so unexpectedly. But like he had established, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. It (the invitation for a date) was out there, and he had more or less planted the idea into Kurt's head: Blaine Anderson was interested in him and wasn't about to back down.

He had spent the night pacing his bedroom, trying to figure out a way to salvage the situation in between scolding himself for being so stupid. Who'd he think he was anyway? He wasn't prince charming to sweep cold Kurt Hummel off his feet with a single cup of coffee. No. By the looks of it, it was obvious that Kurt Hummel took a lot more winning over than that. And the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

Kurt Hummel didn't seem the type to set his standards low. If any, they were infinitely high, and he wondered how anyone could ever level with his expectations. But it suited him. An ambitious, persevering guy like Kurt Hummel needed an equally ambitious and persevering partner. Lucky enough for Blaine, he was both ambitious and persevering, among other things of course.

So that's how he decided, earlier that morning, after he'd gone through a whole pot of coffee, that he would do just that: persevere. Honestly, it sounded easy. But knowing Kurt, he'd make Blaine work his ass off before even agreeing to holding a truthful, earnest, worthwhile conversation with him.

Striding into the office building, holding a tumbler of coffee in one hand, he greeted the front desk secretary with a small smile as he spoke on the cell phone with his father, holding the mobile device between his shoulder and ear as he pressed the call button for the elevator.

"How's the new office?" his dad asked, his voice jovial along the wires.

"Good, actually. We're working on another pharma set, and it's slated for a clinical trial early next month."

"That's good. And the people?"

Blaine shrugged, even though his father couldn't see him. "Everyone's friendly. I mean, I'm still the new guy so I'm still trying to get my footing, but so far everyone's been lovely."

"No one giving you any trouble?" he asked, knowing that even in a big city like New York, there was still hostility regarding sexuality.

_Kurt_, he wanted to say, but his father didn't need to know he was pining for one of his students… which was when the thought struck him. Kurt mentioned he was in one of his father's classes back in medical school. Maybe his father remembered him? "Nope," he answered. "But hey, dad. I have question."

"Yes?"

"Do you remember a Kurt Hummel in any of your classes at Columbia?" he asked hopefully.

His father laughed, the sound loud and rich and full. "My boy, even if I didn't remember him from my classes, he's been making waves in research. It's impossible to overlook him."

"But you remember him? From med school?"

"Yes," he said, as if the fact was obvious. "One can't really ignore perfect Anatomy exams and well-written ethics essays by a man who wears the latest Marc Jacobs fashion."

"Marc Jacobs huh?" Blaine asked amusedly, unable to keep the grin off his face. "I'm surprised you recognize the brand."

"My student assistant pointed it out to me, when it appears I gaped too much when he walked in to class in some outlandish ensemble. But he is quite the talented, passionate young man," he replied fondly, his voice reminding Blaine of his English Literature professor at Dalton.

"Yes," Blaine agreed. "How is he in class though?"

Thomas Anderson scoffed. "Well, brilliant, I say. It's obvious that outside school, he doesn't have much of a life. It's reflected in how excellent a student he is. But he's brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."

"So even then, he seemed a little... Cold, maybe?" he asked, his tone upturned at the end. He knew he sounded like he was prying, fishing desperately for information, but right now he didn't care.

There was a thoughtful silence before Blaine's father responded. "I suppose. But I wouldn't say cold. More like extremely driven. What a pity though. He's quite a dashing young fellow."

"He's gay," Blaine commented dryly as he stepped into his office, shrugging his coat off and setting it on the backrest of his chair.

"My boy, that fact is glaringly obvious from a mile away," Thomas chuckled. "But why the sudden curiosity about him?"

"I work with him now," Blaine said simply. "He's part of the team I joined, remember?"

"Ah, yes, of course. I had forgotten, forgive me," he answered, still chuckling. "And you are... Uh... How do I put it? _Interested_in young Dr. Hummel?"

"Dad!" Blaine exclaimed, blushing profusely.

"What? Can you fault me for taking an interest in your romantic life? You haven't been in a relationship since you and that chap Sebastian went your separate ways."

"That was in college, dad," he replied, rolling his eyes even as his cheeks still felt warm.

"Exactly my point," Thomas said. "I believe it's time you found a man and settled down, Blaine."

He rolled his eyes again, sitting down behind his desk. "No one's caught my attention."

"Except Dr. Hummel, I presume, lest you wouldn't be asking me so many questions about him," he replied knowingly. "So I say, go for it!" he said, his voice gathering much enthusiasm.

"It's a little more complicated than that. He's so uptight like you wouldn't imagine," Blaine said, feeling a little frustrated as he let his elbow rest on the desk.

"We Anderson men are renowned for our perseverance, Blaine, aside from our ability to make any young woman, or man in your case, swoon like a 50s housewife. You've made a lot of young women swoon yourself, and it's terribly amusing to watch them after you've told them you were gay."

"Kurt doesn't swoon," Blaine stated matter-of-factly, ignoring his father's mirth over the women who fancied him, sometimes too desperately.

"Why, of course he doesn't! He wouldn't be Kurt Hummel if he went after you like a lovesick schoolboy. He's a hard case to crack, that much is obvious, but you'll win him over soon enough. He's not cold all throughout, if his ethics essays are anything to size him up."

"I'm glad you're very optimistic about this," Blaine commented with amusement. "And supportive," he added.

Thomas shrugged. "I wouldn't mind it quite so much having Kurt Hummel as a son in law. Imagine—three brilliant doctors within the family! Very, very impressive don't you think?" he said laughingly. "We'll be the envy of every doctor across the Atlantic."

"And this is where I say you're thinking too far ahead in the future. I haven't even so much as convinced the man to go out on a date with me, let alone marry me. But I'm sure you'd love having a prestigious man like Kurt Hummel as a son in law. It would drive mom crazy."

"Well, turn him into an Anderson and it would be no surprise that he'll drive your mother crazy," he said. "But anyway, Blaine," turning sober, "the way I remember Kurt, I don't believe he's entirely unfeeling. You've always had a talent for making people very receptive of you. I'm sure you can work your magic on him," he said sincerely.

"Thank you, dad."

"No thanks needed, my boy. Just make sure you know what you're doing." There was a muffled voice from across the wire, and the distinct sound of a bell ringing before his father's voice became clear again. "And that's my cue to leave, I'm afraid. I have a lecture."

"Of course."

"I was only calling to ask about the new work environment. But skiddle along now."

Blaine chuckled. "Bye, dad."

"Goodbye, Blaine."

Blaine pressed the end button before he stared at the opposite wall, a small smile on his lips. His father was a doctor, but he wasn't one of those serious doctor types. He loved the arts, his fascination for literature flowing even in the way he conversed with people. He was also very jolly, making his students have a natural affinity for him. He was warm and kind, much like Blaine was, actually, and immeasurably accepting and supportive of Blaine's sexuality. Even though he didn't grow with him around, they saw each other a lot, and he loved his father so fiercely, love reciprocated well by Thomas Anderson.

It was no wonder, then, why people usually thought of him as "Thomas Anderson's son". They were big shoes to fill, and people loved him so much, not that Blaine could blame them. He adored his father immensely, even though he resented how he had to break away from his shadow and make a name for himself, blazing his own trail.

But Kurt recognized that the first day, when they had coffee. Kurt knew Blaine was his own person, and didn't so much as gape when he realized he was Thomas Anderson's heir so to speak. It was refreshing. True, he hadn't made a name for himself yet, but to be acknowledged for being who he was rather than an allusion to someone else touched him incredibly. It was probably why he figured Kurt was worth the effort. That first day when Kurt saw right through him without trying had given Blaine some steady footing. Kurt had shown him a kindness he very rarely experienced, and from that moment on, he was drawn.

With one last wistful smile, Blaine stood up, took his files and his coffee, and headed out in search of Quinn to tell her about last night. He got to Quinn's office door, rapped thrice, and then cautiously poked his head in.

"... But I'm not sure if it's worth going back to Lima for since—"

Kurt stopped mid sentence as he raised his head to the door's direction. Quinn turned around to see what made Kurt stop, and smiled widely at Blaine.

"Hi Blaine," Quinn greeted, beckoning him in.

Blaine smiled sheepishly. "I can come back later," he said timidly, gesturing in Kurt's general direction.

"Non sense," Quinn said, standing up and opening the door wider for Blaine to come in. Blaine stepped in awkwardly, looking unsure of himself.

"Hi Kurt," Blaine said, sounding more confident than he actually felt. He flashed Kurt a winning grin.

Kurt cocked his head once and smiled tightly. "Hi."

Quinn looked between Kurt and Blaine before she cleared her throat to get rid of the awkwardness. "Kurt and I were just discussing something about home," she explained to Blaine. As she made her way back to her seat, she addressed Kurt. "Did you know that Blaine is from Ohio, too?" she asked sweetly.

"I did, as a matter of fact," Kurt said, stopping himself from gritting his teeth.

Blaine made his way to a seat and tentatively sat down, biting his lower lip anxiously.

"He's from Dalton Academy," Quinn continued. "We probably competed with them at Regionals. He was the lead singer."

Kurt raised a brow. "Was he?" He knew Blaine was from Dalton Academy, and that he was part of the Warblers. He didn't know he was the lead singer though.

Quinn nodded, flashing an encouraging smile at Blaine. "Right, Blaine?"

Blaine nodded, maybe a little too enthusiastically, and latched on to the help Quinn was extending. "We lost to you guys in my sophomore and junior year, though. It wasn't until one of your singers graduated that we actually stood a chance."

"Ah," Quinn said, turning to Kurt. "He's probably talking about Rachel."

Kurt nodded tersely, growing more and more uncomfortable as the seconds passed. "Of course."

It was another moment of awkward silence before Kurt exhaled loudly, and smiled politely. "Well, as interesting as this was, I better get going," he said standing up.

Quinn looked up in surprise. "But you didn't get to finish—"

"Maybe later," Kurt said non committally as he moved to the door. "See you for lunch." He nodded curtly at Blaine before he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Quinn sighed, turning to Blaine. "I take it last night didn't go so well?" Her frown was deep as she rested her forehead on her hand.

Blaine shrugged, suddenly feeling a little sheepish. "I brought him coffee... And then I think I kind of messed it up."

"How so?"

"I asked him out on a date."

Quinn looked confused. "But wasn't that the entire point? To ask him out?"

"Well, yes, " Blaine struggled, at a loss for the right words. "But I just kind of blurted it out, so now he probably thinks I'm a freak... Or some crazy stalker type."

She chuckled. "Hardly. Kurt thinks sizing people up based on their emotions is juvenile. He doesn't believe in that. He's more likely to judge you on your intellect and work ethics than anything. He won't care if you're an asshole as long as you get your work done impeccably."

Blaine grimaced visibly. "That's... Not very comforting at all, really, seeing as I made a complete fool of myself."

"Don't dwell on it," Quinn chided, dismissing Blaine's apprehensions. "Kurt is a man of action and solutions. If there's a problem, present it to him with a way to assuage it. So do just that—find a solution."

"Quinn—"

"What's your next step?" she asked, cutting him off abruptly. "Don't tell me you're discouraged already."

"No, of course not!" Blaine said quickly, hasting to reassure her.

"So find a solution," she replied impatiently. "Don't mope over how you made a complete fool of yourself last night. Be proactive."

Blaine chuckled despite himself. "Has anyone ever told you you'd make a good motivational speaker?" he asked offhandedly.

Quinn paused, and then gave Blaine a cheeky grin. "Once or twice," she said, winking.

That afternoon, after an entire day going through drug combinations, Blaine once again made his way to the coffee shop, ordered Kurt's favorite, and found himself outside the laboratory at a quarter past four.

Without knocking, he opened the door and found Kurt once again on the high stool, studying a chart. Kurt looked up, keeping his eyes trained on Blaine a little suspiciously (or was that impatiently? He wasn't sure.) as he set the coffee cup in front of Kurt.

He didn't sit down, only stayed standing in front of Kurt and staring into his eyes.

"I won't bother you," Blaine said after clearing his throat. "I'll leave you to your charts tonight. But I just have to say this..."

He paused, watching Kurt's expression turn from carefully blank to mildly curious.

"I don't know what's stopping you, and I don't know what's going on in your head. But if you gave a me chance to get to know you, I'm pretty sure I can be whatever you need.

"I'm... A little crazy about you, Kurt," he admitted shyly. "And I'm not going anywhere until you've agreed to one measly date with me. It's just one time. And if at the end of it, you decide there's nothing you find in me that's worth your time, then I'll leave you alone. But until then, I'm not going anywhere."

For a moment, Kurt looked like he was about to say something fundamental, and Blaine braced himself for rejection or a scathing remark. But instead, Kurt sighed and dropped his gaze back to the chart.

"Thank you for the coffee, Blaine" he said simply.

Blaine resisted the urge to sigh, and managed to make his voice sound cheery enough. "You're welcome," he replied, before he turned around and left.

That night, Kurt threw the coffee out in the bin, the same way he did the night before.

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LMK what you think? Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 5

AN: Sooo. Thanks for all the lovely feedback for the last chapter. Considering this is my first story, I'm extremely happy that people are actually reading this thing. The next chapter is here and I hope you like it.

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When a person is exposed to a particular allergen, the body is sensitized, the immune system creating a specific defense for when the body encounters it again. It's a powerful reaction so much so that when a person is re-exposed to the allergen, the body goes into shock. Anaphylactic shock. It happens quickly after exposure, sometimes so quickly and severely that a patient may die within minutes without a life-saving dose of epinephrine.

Blaine wasn't exactly allergic to anything, and shivers at the thought of ever needing a dose of epinephrine. But there were certain issues, certain bits and pieces of information that led him to shock—like, emotional anaphylactic shock—that he wished he had an epi pen in hand if only to react accordingly and not make a fool of himself. Today was one of those days.

It was Wednesday, and Blaine hated Wednesdays. It was like being in the middle of the deep part of a swimming pool while trying to swim laps—too far from the start to go back, and too far from the end to sigh in relief. Much as he wanted to think a little positively this time around, seeing as he was in a new work environment, he couldn't shake off the way his face turned into a scowl the moment he realized he needed to head to work.

The situation with Kurt reminded him of how, when he was young, his mother refused to buy him a shiny new truck from the toy store. He had begged and pleaded all day, all week, annoying the crap out of her until she finally gave in and bought it, conceding because he was so god damn persistent. He decided he would do just the same thing with Kurt—he would labor intensively, and probably be in Kurt's face until Kurt finally agreed. Truthfully he had no idea how long that was going to take, but as of the moment, he didn't mind. The thrill of the chase was fresh and new, invigorating his senses, but also adding fuel to the burning desire he had to one day be the man Kurt Hummel needed.

He had since gotten over the fact that it was still partly ridiculous to pine so passionately after someone he had just met. It simply didn't make sense, and Blaine decided that instead of using his energy trying to decipher logic and rationalizing his emotions, he'd channel the energy into doing something about it. _Analysis-paralysis_, he thought. If he was going to worry about anything related to Kurt, it might as well have been worry over getting him to go out with him.

There was a quiet knock on his door, followed by a tentative poke of a head covered with silver gray hair.

"Elise?" Blaine asked, smiling as he stood up from his chair politely.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Dr. Anderson," she said as she stepped into the office, her right arm cradling a file.

"Not at all," Blaine answered kindly. "What can I do for you?"

Elise smiled. "I have a document I need for you to complete," Elise explained. "A personal data sheet we need for the office file, if you don't mind."

Blaine shook his head, smiling at her and gesturing for her to take a seat. "Not at all. Do you need them now?"

"Again, if you don't mind," she answered, nodding as she handed them over.

"Of course," Blaine said, taking the file from Elise. "How's um... How's Dr. Hummel's research going?" he asked, feigning a tiny bit of nonchalance as he proceeded to fill out the form. Well, let it never be said that Blaine Anderson wasted time and beat around the bush.

"Doing as well as could be expected," she answered, watching as Blaine's graceful hand moved swiftly across the sheet with his pen.

Blaine hummed. "He's not... Working too late, is he?"

"I'm not really sure," Elise admitted with a little confusion. "I've been tidying his office out the past days, and there's always a full cup of coffee in the bin. So I honestly don't know if he's been working extra late and needing an extra cup, or going home extra early this week. You can never tell with Kurt."

Blaine suddenly looked up from the file and stared a little incredulously at Elise. Kurt hadn't been drinking the coffee—_of course _he hadn't. Kurt seemed cautious (or pretentious, he hadn't quite decided yet) about it in the first place, and he shouldn't really have been surprised. But he had to admit, the idea that Kurt didn't appreciate the gesture enough to finish the cup of coffee at least halfway through had discouraged him a little. He felt slightly deflated, but he offered Elise a polite smile and returned his gaze to the document.

"Besides," Elise continued, unaware of Blaine's thought, "it's not as if anyone has ever read Kurt well enough, let alone around this time of year."

His brow furrowing in confusion, he looked up again and frowned. "Why? What happens this time of year?" he asked, more than a bit curious.

Elise chuckled sadly before she sighed and shrugged. "His mother's death anniversary," she explained kindly. "He always takes it very hard."

Blaine's face registered shock before his frown deepened, feeling some sort of sadness over the fact. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. I didn't know that...you know...his mother passed away," he stammered a little.

Elise reached out and patted Blaine's hand lightly. "A long time ago, dear. When Kurt was very young. But it's a difficult time for him nonetheless."

The pieces were slowly coming together in Blaine head—Kurt's attitude, and the part of the conversation he had overheard of Kurt and Quinn talking. He didn't know that Kurt's mother was dead, and that Kurt essentially grew up without a mother figure. His heart felt a sudden, tangible ache for him. He knew what it felt like to have an absentee parent, his father being away in New York while he grew up in Ohio. It was always challenging, but at least he got to see him during the Holidays—it was his only comfort. He could only just imagine the pain Kurt must have gone through whilst growing up, coupled still with his struggle with his sexuality. He was slowly understanding exactly why Kurt was the way he was, something he was pretty sure people had come to know as well, but didn't necessarily find the need to elaborate on.

"I don't mean to pry, Elise," Blaine said apologetically, wincing at his tone. "But when did his mother die, exactly?"

"When Kurt was eight," she said. "Twenty one years ago to date, actually."

"Today? Her death anniversary is _today_?" he asked a little incredulously.

Elise nodded somberly. "Kurt usually flies to Lima to be with his father. He probably will this weekend. But today's the day," she said with a sigh of obvious concern. It was clear to anyone that Elise loved Kurt very dearly.

Blaine continued to contemplate Elise's words, biting his lip amid the sadness in his eyes. "Is he here today?"

She nodded. "He'll probably bury himself up in work until he keels over tonight. You won't find him moping about, especially not today. If any, it powers him through the research- makes him more determined."

Blaine grimaced suddenly, the thought occurring to him like a baseball bat to his head. "Oh god, please tell me his mother didn't die of breast cancer," he said, more to himself than to her.

Another sad smile graced Elise's face. "She did, unfortunately. Her death really changed the way Kurt lived his life, I think. I know that the sole reason he's so obsessed with the research is because of her."

An overwhelming feeling of pity and compassion and sympathy surged through Blaine's heart, filling him with much sadness as he tried to imagine the circumstances Kurt had went through. He had newfound respect for the man, and also a newfound, carnal need to be tangible comfort for him. This was Kurt's story—unfolding before his eyes in a way he wasn't exactly expecting. This was the fundamental reason for Kurt being Kurt, and it allowed Blaine a better perspective of Kurt's personality, and how he could go around it and inch his way to Kurt's trust.

"Do people know what today is?"

Elise shrugged. "It's common knowledge, but it's not information Kurt volunteers. If any, it's something very private, something he's fiercely protective of. He gets... _Snappy_... When people try to show him any condolences, so truly it's best to leave the matter alone. He'll jump back eventually."

"He's resilient," he whispered distractedly.

"He is," she agreed. "Although I can't quite fathom how a man like him deserves to learn to be resilient like that. It's merely proof of how difficult his life has been, poor boy."

"Yes," Blaine said absently.

"But," Elise concluded, her tone significantly lighter. "What's done is done. We cannot change Kurt's past, only make him realize that there's more to life than hurting over his mother's death."

She smiled sweetly at Blaine before he snapped out of it and offered a polite smile of his own as he bowed his head to complete the form.

"For what it's worth, Dr. Anderson" Elise said after a moment, watching Blaine carefully as he filled out the document. "Kurt is human, too. The moments are rare and far in between, but when he so much as expresses anything like earnest happiness, you can't help but feel a little tight in the chest with joy. Those moments are worth it. I live for them myself."

Blaine looked up, absently handing the completed form as he stared at Elise. Elise winked knowingly before she stood up and walked to the door.

"Good day, Dr. Anderson."

"Good day, Elise," he replied, shaking his head as Elise's words rung in his head.

Blaine wasn't about to take advantage of the situation so he could win Kurt's trust. He was a gentleman like that. But he was compelled to comfort Kurt—not so that Kurt would open up, but rather because he genuinely felt bad for him. Kurt's mother had died twenty years ago, too long a time for anyone to still be grieving. But that was precisely what Kurt was doing right now: grieving a death that happened two decades in the past. Maybe it wasn't in the most conventional of ways, but the more Blaine thought about it, the more he realized that all of Kurt's decisions in life screamed _I'm not over my mother's death. Sue me.  
_  
Today, then, he decided, called for extra comfort. So just as in the past couple of days, with renewed enthusiasm and an encouraged spring in his step, Blaine stood before the laboratory door at a quarter past four, holding a steaming cup of liquid courage... Or comfort, really, his heart pounding energetically.

With a quiet rap on the door, Blaine opened it cautiously and found Kurt once again on the high stool, looking impeccably dressed but with subtle hints of a disheveled, mourning man here and there.

Kurt looked up tiredly from his work, his sad eyes meeting Blaine's. He didn't have the will in him to be sarcastic or witty or scathing. Not today. Today he was just a mess—and anything that came out of his mouth would clearly reflect his turmoil.

Wordlessly, Blaine offered a small smile before he kicked the door closed and made his way to Kurt. He set the cup in front of him as he sat down on the stool across Kurt, pushing the cup closer.

Blaine gave Kurt an encouraging look, and for some strange reason, something in Kurt snapped, resigning him to take the cup and sip from it cautiously. Blaine didn't know what it was, but he decided that he didn't care as long as Kurt took the beverage. He didn't know what had short circuited in Kurt's head, save maybe for the quiet resignation in his features that he would later learn was common of Kurt this time of year.

Kurt took a tentative sip, bracing himself for the bitter sting of hot coffee against his tongue. But he was beyond surprised when he realized that instead of something bitter, a sweet, comforting taste filled his senses, almost transporting him back to the old couch in his Lima home where his mother used to bring him the same cup of hot chocolate. Hot chocolate. _Hot chocolate_.

His face registered the surprise, and he looked up in quiet shock at Blaine. "This isn't coffee," he stated, his voice low and calculating and hoarse, almost reflecting the mental debate he was having about either falling into a fit of blind rage at Blaine's audacity, or swoon hopelessly at the touching, thoughtful gesture.

Blaine offered him a crooked smile as he nodded. "I'm a firm believer myself that there isn't any heartache that warm chocolate with a touch of cinnamon and a dollop of whipped cream won't cure."

Kurt stared, breathing heavily. Nobody had ever done this for him before, at least not outside of Quinn and Rachel, and his family—especially not someone he had only just met and was teetering on the edge of being rude to. He wasn't expecting Blaine to be quite so thoughtful, and he wasn't sure if the perceptible sting at the back of his eyes was because of the flashbacks he was having of his mother, or because of Blaine's earnest kindness.

When Kurt said nothing, Blaine frowned a little and continued. "Elise told me what today is," he said slowly. A beat, and then, "I'm really sorry, Kurt, I can only imagine—"

"Please don't," Kurt cut, finally finding his voice after being rendered speechless. "No sympathies."

Blaine bit his bottom lip but nodded in acquiescence. "I thought... The hot chocolate would help. I know it's a difficult day for you," he finished lamely.

Kurt nodded once, eyeing the cup of chocolate still nestled in his palm before bringing it up to his lips and taking another sip. "Thank you," he whispered, before he cleared his throat and blinking to get rid of the sting behind his eyes. "That's very thoughtful of you."

"Anyway," Blaine continued trying very hard not to stumble on his words, "if you ever... Need to talk to anyone... I know you don't trust me with your emotions yet, and I completely understand. And I'm not just saying this because I want you to go out with me but... You can talk to me. I'm sure I'm not the first person who's offered to be… Your shoulder to cry on or whatever... But I'm here if you want to talk. About anything."

Kurt's gaze was kept solidly on the lid of the hot chocolate, showing no indication that he would answer to Blaine's offer. His thumb absently brushed back and forth against the paper cup, his thoughts deep and unreadable.

Blaine desperately wanted to be able to read him—and to know what was going on in his head and then embrace all of the pain away. But Kurt continued not to meet his expectant gaze, and he suppressed the urge to sigh.

"So, yeah." Blaine said in quiet defeat. "That was all I came here to say. I'll leave you to your charts," as he moved to stand up from the stool dejectedly.

He was about two paces away from the door when Kurt's voice stopped him mid-step.

"She died when I was eight," Kurt said quietly—too quietly that Blaine's wasn't sure he had spoken at all. Kurt kept his eyes on the coffee cup even as Blaine turned around to look at him.

Kurt struggled with his words, and he wasn't sure what had made him talk in the first place. In retrospect, he would realize that he believed in Blaine's kindness, and he was desperate for something concrete and hopeful to hold on to, something that wasn't resigned to the way he was, and pushed Kurt's boundaries to fight his way through the intricacies of Kurt's personality that made him speak out.

There was drumming in Blaine's ears as he watched Kurt fight internally with himself, his frown deepening. He wanted to rush over and comfort him, encourage him. But he was afraid that any sudden movements would make Kurt retreat. This trust, this open gateway, was fragile and Blaine could only stand firmly in his spot, transfixed by the way Kurt was slowly opening up to him.

"I... Came home from school one day and my parents sat me down on the couch, trying to explain to me what was wrong with my mom. I didn't understand at first," he said slowly, his brow furrowing at the memory. "And then my mom stood up, shuffled around in the kitchen, and brought me a mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon." Kurt smiled wistfully at the memory. "She passed away less than a year later."

Blaine swallowed, nodding almost imperceptibly.

Kurt found that, for some reason unknown to him, sharing a part of himself with Blaine was incredibly comforting. He blushed a little at the thought, but generally remained melancholy and thoughtful.

"I don't think I've been the same since," he finished with a whisper.

The silence between them hung heavy as Kurt's words swirled in both their minds. After a beat, Kurt finally looked up and met Blaine's gaze with a slight smile. "Thank you for the hot chocolate, Blaine."

Blaine paused, and then hesitantly returned Kurt's smile with a dazzling, appreciative smile of his own. His heart swelled with quiet affection for Kurt, realizing that he was slowly falling for the man.

With a nod, he cleared his throat. "You're welcome," he said with a low voice, before he turned around again and left the laboratory, a subtle spring in his step.

That night, an empty cup of hot chocolate sat in the bin, a sign of Blaine's slow assimilation in Kurt's life.

* * *

LMK what you think? Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 6

AN: Next chapter's up! Thanks so much for reading, guys. :)

- I still own nothing. If I did, I'm pretty sure the entire show would be Klaine centric.

* * *

It seemed almost supernatural to Kurt, the way Blaine was able to crack a hole and shine a light into Kurt's normally closed off emotions. And for someone who believed entirely in science and paid no heed to heaven and hell and things unexplained by the laws of physics or mathematical equations, the thought was earth shattering.

It was almost as if he felt his mother whisper in his ear, telling him to share some minuscule part of him with a man he barely knew but wanted desperately to. The thought terrified Kurt, but not enough to pull away entirely—another mystery.

The idea that something bigger than him, something he could not control was taking over his life, was daunting, but he basked in the comfort Blaine had given him the night prior. It confused him, truth be told. Everything he was feeling now was going against the things he had built the foundations of his personality on. He had told himself from the very beginning, and again when Blaine had entered his life, that he wasn't one to be distracted from his ideals. And even if it cost him his happiness, or his future, the important thing was that he could create something invariably important for a wider scale of people than himself. Compared to the joy he could bring to millions of people affected by the disease, his own happiness seemed superficial and faded immensely in comparison.

It was with that thought that Kurt went home late that night and booked a flight to Port Columbus, Ohio. He needed to regroup, and to remind himself to stay focused, on top of the need to see his father who he missed incredibly. He packed his bags absently, left Quinn a voicemail informing her of his plans, and called a cab to take him to the airport for the 4am flight to Ohio.

He'd slept throughout the flight, his thoughts unclouded by images of Blaine's encouraging look, or his kind smile, or his compassionate hazel eyes he knew he could spend forever staring into. Maybe it was the time of year that brought about the unusual reaction, but for a moment, Kurt allowed himself to imagine the possibility of a future with Blaine.

What Blaine was asking him was simple in theory. One date. One measly date. But to Kurt, it meant something more magnanimous than a possibly pleasant dinner and drinks or a movie. To Kurt, it meant that he would abandon his own principles and take a leap of faith—something he admittedly did not have. Not for anything or anyone. Blaine was asking him to hold on to his outstretched hand and cling tightly, relying solely on his strength and his capacity to make Kurt believe there was absolutely nothing wrong with falling in love.

He got to Port Columbus International Airport, took a cab to Lima, and was at the front porch by 8:15 in the morning, just in time to catch his father before he went to the garage to work. Standing there, in a home he had made considerably less memories in than the one he had lived in before his father and Carole got married, almost reminded him of how painfully bittersweet it was to see his father love another. Yes he wanted his father to be happy, and he was glad Carole was there to look after him now, but he also felt an indescribable amount of sadness over his father moving forward, leaving him standing the same ground he had been on since his mother's death. Carole never tried to replace his mother, but she was kind and motherly in ways Kurt didn't always appreciate, but loved her for nevertheless. He had grown to love the woman who loved his father dearly, and brought with her a brother, Finn, who was fiercely protective of him in a way he did not expect. Finn made high school a lot more tolerable, and for that, he was grateful.

He readjusted the duffel bag slung over his shoulder and tentatively knocked on the door, feeling just a little jittery at seeing his father again. It was a moment before he heard the chains behind the door moving and the door flung open, revealing his father, slightly aged now, but still the man Kurt remembered him to be.

There was a look of shock that flashed across Burt's face before Kurt launched himself unceremoniously at his father, holding on tightly to him. Burt gathered him in his strong arms, his chest vibrating with laughter.

"Kurt! You sure know how to surprise your old man."

Kurt just laughed as he kept his nose buried in Burt's shoulder. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, buddy," he said sincerely and held on to him a moment longer before patting his back and pulling away. "Let me take a look at you."

Kurt took a step back as Burt studied him, frowning just as Burt frowned. "Dad."

"You're too thin. Carole will fatten you up like a turkey, that's for sure."

Kurt smiled crookedly as Burt ushered him in, taking his bag and setting it to the side before closing the door. "How've you been?"

Burt shrugged, burying his hands in the pockets of his old garage overalls. "Very good, Kurt. Carole is too scared of you to deviate from your meal plans."

He nodded, a small, fond smile gracing his lips. "That's good. Where is she?"

"At the hospital," Burt answered, taking a good look at his son and sighing inwardly at the realization that he hadn't slept the night before. This was typical of Kurt this time of year, and it pained Burt to see him still greatly affected by the loss.

He wouldn't underestimate it, no. Even twenty years since Liz's death, there was still a phantom ache in his chest at the memory. The only difference between him and Kurt was that he had allowed his heart to love again while Kurt remained closed off.

Kurt nodded again. "You look great, dad. Healthy."

"Comes with having a doctor for a son," Burt said proudly, the genuine happiness in voice apparent.

He chuckled, looking around the house as if placing himself in his home. After a moment, Kurt looked up and met Burt's gaze. "I really did miss you," he said sincerely.

Burt grinned and took a step forward, hugging Kurt to him. "I missed you too, kid."

Kurt was a grown man, and always asserted his independence even when he was young. But there was something about being in his father's embrace that made him feel like he was eight years old again, seeking solace in the arms of the only man he knew would not fail him, would always love him, and would constantly support him even when he felt like the biggest loser.

His voice muffled by Burt's coveralls, he said, "You going to work today?"

"I was going to," he replied, his voice light. "You caught me by surprise here. But work can wait. Do you want to head up mom's now?"

There was a pause before Kurt nodded, feeling a little like a child as his father pulled away.

"Hop into the truck," Burt said. "I'll just grab a lighter."

Kurt nodded again and watched as his father turned around to the kitchen to retrieve a lighter. Kurt took a deep, calming breath, then made his way to his dad's truck, one that was in mint condition despite its old age. He had a thousand and one memories riding in that truck, not all of them happy, but memories nonetheless.

When Burt reappeared, they hopped into the truck and wordlessly drove to the cemetery. It was a path Kurt knew by heart—one he had mapped out the moment he learned directions and frequently took by himself when he learned how to drive. Sentimental as it sounded, this was the road that led him to his mother, to the very reason he was the man he was today, the way paved beyond him as some sort of guide.

Already he was feeling centered, feeling more self-control than he did when he first landed. He was tired, and weary, but his heart was regaining its fervor. But he soon realized, as he and his father alighted from the car and walked to the grave, that as the vigor increased in his heart, so did the longing for tender whispers of reassurance, strong arms encircled around him, and hazel eyes staring lovingly into his.

_This _was what he was talking about. Opening up and allowing anyone in his heart would mess up his convictions, and he resented himself for allowing one Blaine Anderson to meddle with his ideals. Though logically it wasn't Blaine's fault that Kurt found himself slowly falling in love with him, Kurt blamed the man and his persistence for the confusion now saturating him.

But wait. Falling in love? Since when did he acknowledge that he was falling in love with Blaine? It was absurd. They had known each other all of two weeks, and that was that. Was it even possible to fall in love with someone so quickly? Kurt shook his head, grimacing inwardly at the idea. It was crazy, and undeniably foolish. The whole point of this trip was to remind him to stay focused, and that would be that. He would entertain no thoughts about Blaine, especially not in this light.

They arrived at the grave marker, finally, Kurt standing a few paces behind as Burt knelt down to light a candle before brushing his fingers over the name engraved on the stone.

Burt kept his fingers on the stone, bowing his head, whispering words incoherent to Kurt. Kurt watched with fascination as Burt managed to seem sad and happy at the same time, wondering how his father managed to find love everywhere he went. His heart clenched as the chilly morning wind blew, ruffling his hair and making him shiver.

Finally, Burt stood up and smiled down briefly at the marker before he stepped away, allowing Kurt a moment alone with his mother.

At first he thought it was strange, communicating with a piece of stone and pretending it was her. It wasn't until he realized that the stone, the tangible marker of his mother's life, and being near it, almost made his mother's presence near in every sense. This, being in this spot, was where he felt closest to her. Sometimes, when he was a teenager and getting bullied for being gay, he'd sob at the very spot, and he'd swear he could feel his mother reassuring him in the gentle wind that blew around him.

He sat down, folding his feet under his thighs, and ran his fingers across the name just as his father did.

"Hi, Mom," he whispered, his voice low enough for Burt not to hear. "It's me."

Kurt paused, biting his bottom lip. "I'm sorry I haven't been here a while. We've been working harder these past months at the foundation, and I can feel it, Mom. We're so _close_." He paused again, breathing in deeply. "You'd be proud of me, I think."

He waited to see if he'd feel anything, like the rustle of the wind or the smell of roses somewhere. But when nothing happened, he sighed. "I think about you everyday. Sometimes I feel like things are finally getting easier, and then there are days when things are just... Hard."

He wondered sometimes how he'd turn out if his mother didn't die. He obviously wouldn't be the same person, and he found himself imagining a life unbound to the past, where he was free to just go with the flow. He doubted he'd be a doctor, or anything remotely related to a health professional. He probably would have been a designer, or an actor, or a musician, but definitely not a doctor. He was sure he'd have been happier. Maybe by now, he'd have been teetering close to marriage, with a long, established relationship under his belt. Maybe he wouldn't be such a cynic, a skeptic to everything else in the world.

But then he'd realize, had his mother not died, he probably wouldn't have forged such a deep relationship with his father, or realized his full potential as a professional. He probably wouldn't have turned out to be as strong and motivated and ambitious, and, well, he probably would never have met Blaine.

Oh, and there his thoughts went _again_. He wasn't supposed to be thinking about Blaine. However, it was the thought of Blaine and his hazel eyes that lead him to notice the subtle scent of roses filling his senses whether imaginary or not. The familiar sting of tears behind his eyes was unexpected, and he licked his lips to brace himself. Now wasn't the time.

Kurt shook his head, eager to rid himself of the implications. His mind was on overdrive, and he was tired, and he decided that whatever it was he smelled or felt was his imagination entirely. Kurt Hummel was a scientist, after all. He was choosing to un-believe in the things he had held on to while he was growing up in favor of ridding his mind of the idea that he _could _lose control.

He stood up abruptly, sniffing against the cold air and turning around to face his father.

"Ready so soon?" Burt asked, a little surprised. Usually Kurt took his time.

Kurt nodded swiftly. "Yes."

Burt narrowed his eyes before he nodded in acquiescence, shifting his gaze to the tombstone and blowing a kiss before leading the way back to the car. The first couple of minutes of the drive was spent in silence, until Burt glanced at Kurt's absent expression and cleared his throat.

"I, uh, wasn't expecting you to come home this year," Burt said, trying to sound casual.

Kurt snapped out of his reverie and turned to look at his father. "I almost didn't," he admitted honestly, sounding a little sheepish.

Burt nodded. "Why not?"

He shrugged, turning his gaze to the road ahead. "Just... Work in general."

"You might be working yourself to death there, Kurt. That's not good."

"We're so close dad, I can taste it. I think I can afford another couple of months without sleep. When we find the cure, you know I can sleep as well as I'd like at night."

"Of course, but you'd be useless if you're always tired."

"I'm fine dad."

The way Kurt punctuated his sentence told Burt to wisely drop the subject of his son overworking himself. It'd be futile to argue with him over the point. Years of raising a son like Kurt had told him that once Kurt put his mind into something, he'd stop at nothing to achieve. His role as his father came, then, as unerring support. But Burt worried incessantly about Kurt, not just over the hours he kept at work, but also over the severe sadness that was glaringly apparent in Kurt whenever he came to visit. It pained his heart to see his son so cloistered off, and it was his fervent wish that Kurt would find the cure and hurry up with it so he could find an excuse to let someone else into his heart.

"If you say so, Kurt," he concluded, his eyes still on the road. "Is that all though?"

Kurt turned his head in question. "What do you mean?"

"I know you. Flying here to Lima was a last minute decision, or else you would've called for someone to pick you up from the airport. I know how much you hate taking a cab here. You get enough of that in New York." He paused. "Did anything happen at work?"

Kurt repressed the urge to shrink. "Of course not, why would you think that?"

"You forget that I'm your father and I know you, Kurt," Burt chided. "Don't make me the fool here. Our relationship has always been about honest communication. Don't make that stop now."

He remained quiet, almost in protest, but he knew that his father was right. Burt knew him inside out, and he could read him well enough to know that something was going on in his life, something big. It wasn't that Burt simply wanted to be a part of it. Burt just really worried about Kurt, maybe more than a parent should about his son.

"I'm sorry," Kurt apologized.

Burt nodded in acknowledgement, still waiting for Kurt to open up. He was purposely driving slower than he normally would to buy some time with his son.

"It's just... There's this new guy at work," Kurt found himself saying, the words rolling off his tongue with ease in a way only his father could make him do. "And he's..."

"Harassing you? Interested in you?" Burt supplied evenly, not sure if he should be elated or angry that some guy was interested in his son.

Kurt shrugged. "I suppose you could say he's interested..."

Burt nodded. "And?" he prompted.

He paused before sighing heavily. "I don't know. He's... Such a _distraction_," Kurt found himself saying, almost whining.

"So you like him too?"

Kurt thought about it for a moment, feeling like he was in high school. This sort of conversation was entirely long overdue. He liked Blaine; he knew that from the beginning. He just wasn't sure to what extent. "I guess," he said finally.

"So what's the catch?"

"Like I said, he's a distraction."

Burt shrugged. "Nothing wrong with a distraction here and there."

Kurt sighed. "He works with me, dad. You know my rule about relationships in general. It's bad enough that I'm remotely drawn to him and he's been a lot nicer than he should be considering the way I treat him, but it's so much worse when he _works with me_, you know? I can't afford to deviate now. Relationships are hard work, and they take much effort—effort I can be using for the research."

"Kurt," Burt sighed. "This is something you have to understand. Relationships aren't easy, yes, but they're not just that. A big, fundamental beauty about relationships is that no matter how much work it takes, it's worth it because you're happy. And I know, I _know _you depend so much on your science, but science isn't everything. There's a whole other spectrum called human emotion that you're missing out on because your head is so wrapped up in the idea of finding a cure that you're sacrificing all your chances at finding someone to love and who loves you back."

"It makes me uncomfortable."

"Of course it does. You're so used to being in control of everything, needing to _understand _everything that the very idea of trusting someone or something unknown terrifies the crap out of you. But you'll never be able to find real happiness if you aren't willing to take a risk."

"But it's not about that, Dad," Kurt insisted. "It's not about finding happiness. It's about being goal-oriented. I have my ambitions, and I have a clear set of goals. I can't just give those things up."

"You don't have to give those things up, Kurt. Nobody said you have to," Burt answered. "Just because you let someone else into your heart doesn't mean you love your mom, or your science, or your ambitions any less. True, you'll have to make sacrifices and give some things up, but it's never to that extent. You've worked so hard for this Kurt, but you also have such a great capacity to love that I'd hate to see it go to waste."

Kurt was quiet, letting Burt's words wash over him like a torrential downpour. He had never before heard his father be so passionate about Kurt's own dreams mixed with his own dreams for his son.

"You're allowed to be happy, Kurt. Love doesn't have a schedule, and it'll come whenever and wherever it feels like it. If love comes in the form of a new guy at work, then you better accept it. Don't ruin your chance at a relationship just because you're not willing to take a risk. You can never cross the ocean if you don't have the _courage _to lose sight of the shore."

Despite himself, Kurt raised a brow. "You're getting philosophical there, dad."

Burt chuckled. "It's all those wellness magazines Carole buys," he said. "But trust me, Kurt. I know how it is to hold on to so much pain. It was hard when your mom died. But later on I realized I wasn't doing her memory much honor by shutting myself out from the world. She would have wanted me to be happy, and she wants that for you too. She doesn't want you spending your days cooped up in some lab, trying to find something that truthfully won't do much for her. She'd want you to live, and love, just as she did."

Kurt nodded slowly. "It's just... So hard."

"Nobody said it was easy, bud. But you have the power to let people in and out of your life. Happiness is a choice, and so is wallowing in pain. Because let's face it, is this really how you want to spend the rest of your life, Kurt? Teetering on the edge of a cure but going home to an empty house and a cold bed? I want more for you. And you should want more for yourself. The measure of success isn't just in the money you've made, or the advances you've paved. It's also in the relationships you've built and in the love you've shared with the people around you. That's what people remember you for."

The tension was thick between them and Kurt tried to process Burt's words. Kurt was beyond uncomfortable talking to his father about these things. They've always been very open to each other, but his father knew where to draw the line between necessary and uncomfortable. They had never had this particular talk before, and Kurt was slightly appalled that Burt even touched not so lightly on the topic of Kurt finding a man to be in a relationship with. Burt was always very conscious about granting Kurt his independence, and trusting his judgments, and so it surprised Kurt that his father found the need to voice his opinions, his concerns, his worries about the matter of his love life. The topic itself was awkward to hold between father and son, which allowed Kurt the realization that this was serious, and something his father lost sleep over.

Kurt sighed, staring at his shoes as he mumbled. "We've never talked about this before."

Burt spared him a look before shrugging. "I know. But your old man's worried about you. I want you to be happy."

"I don't want my happiness to depend on a man. A relationship doesn't equate to happiness."

"Kurt, I know. But twenty years down the line, I'm telling you, you're going to have some serious regrets when you look back at your life and realize you've been so fixated on work and neglecting everything else that matters. I don't want you having those regrets."

The last time they had a talk about Kurt's personal life was when Burt gave him to customary safe sex talk. He had emphasized how Kurt mattered, and it had touched Kurt immeasurably. He knew that his father meant well, and was looking out for him. Carole and Finn aside, they only had each other, and he couldn't stomach disappointing his father, or losing him and knowing they had regrets.

If there was one more concrete thing Kurt picked up from losing his mother, it was the way he was fiercely protective of his father. He always wanted him pleased and happy and satisfied and proud, and he would much rather die than lose him, or disappoint him. He has nightmares about Burt dying, his attachment sometimes giving him nightmares about losing him prematurely.

And so if Burt wanted him to find a partner, he would. In a heartbeat. Especially if he knew it would appease him. But more than that, more than his father's insistence, he was slowly finding it within his own wishes to find someone. He was getting there, albeit slowly and reluctantly, but he was getting there.

"Now, I'm not saying to throw yourself at the first guy interested in you, because you matter, remember? But I want you to start realizing that life is too short to focus on just one thing. Enjoy _everything _Kurt. Your mom died too young, and we had so many plans we never got around to doing, but you have the chance to enjoy the things she never did. Don't waste that chance," Burt continued.

Kurt sighed. "I guess," breathed.

"Life is short, Kurt," he repeated.

He nodded, still contemplating it. His father made a good point, an excellent one at that. But he needed to ease himself in, and wean himself from the life he was used to. He was a man of routine, and it was terribly difficult for him to adjust. It would be a constant conscious effort, a challenge, but one he was willing to take on for his father. The thought scared him, honestly. It was a big change. But like he said: for his father, he would do anything.

Clearing this throat, Burt offered Kurt a crooked smile.

"But this kid that you like... Is he at least worth it? You know, is he respectable and respectful and all that? Treats you right?"

Kurt thought about it for a moment, thought of Blaine's persistence, his earnest words and his genuine concern for him. He imagined Blaine whispering encouragements in his hear, his arms wrapped securely around Kurt's tiny waist, telling him it didn't matter if he found a cure or not as long as they had each other. Blaine was the perfect man. He really was. No matter how Kurt sliced it, Blaine always reacted in the right ways. Given the chance, Kurt would probably discover that he said the right things, too, and always had the perfect solutions.

"Yeah," Kurt answered, smiling a little. "Yeah, I think he's worth it."

* * *

Sometimes, I wish Burt Hummel was my dad. I seriously wanted to hug him while I wrote this. :)) Thanks for reading, guys!


	8. Chapter 7a

AN: So I kind of just figured out how to reply to reviews, so you'll have to excuse me. I'm one big newbie in this world. Anyway. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing the last chapter. I particularly loved Burt there, and I sometimes wish my dad was that supportive, too. Haha. Here's the next chapter. Blaine and Kurt don't interact here, but I promise that they do in the next one.

Thanks for reading, guys!

-I still own nothing.

* * *

Quinn had informed him of Kurt's whereabouts the moment he got to work the following day. And quite honestly, he wasn't sure what to make of it. It was getting increasingly harder to read Kurt, and he wasn't entirely sure he could keep up with it. He was having some serious doubts about his insistence on being the man who could change the way Kurt Hummel viewed the world. But Quinn reassured him that it was good thing, Kurt going home to Lima.

She had said that if anyone could convince Kurt to do anything, it was his father. And judging by the way Kurt reacted the night previous, his last minute trip to home was greatly affected by Blaine.

"I'm not entirely sure that's a good thing," Blaine said as he scratched the back of his head, walking from the staff meeting alongside Quinn.

Quinn turned her head and grinned. "Kurt and his father are very honest with each other. It was the kind of parent relationship everyone in high school wanted. Seeing Kurt's dad come to his defense every time anyone so much as discriminated against him actually made me evaluate my own relationship with my dad."

Blaine shrugged unsurely. "Still, though."

"Since when did you start being pessimistic, Blaine?" she asked, nudging him playfully. "It's only been a couple of days. Don't tell me he's wearing you out already."

"He may be," he admitted honestly.

"You just had a breakthrough last night," she said as she rolled her eyes. "That's reason enough to be optimistic."

"He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to be swayed by a cup of hot chocolate, Quinn. He may have been nice last night, but that doesn't really mean a lot in the bigger picture."

"You hit a strong chord with that hot chocolate, actually. And yes, he may not be entirely convinced to go out with you _yet_, but you're obviously on the right track."

"I guess," Blaine said, still unconvinced. The truth of the matter was that this wasn't a game. Seeing Kurt unravel just a little bit last night, although making him extremely giddy, also terrified him. He was happy Kurt was opening up, but at the same time he wasn't sure if his own emotions, his own strength of character, could take on such a hard case like Kurt. And say Kurt laid his heart on the line, gave it to him and trusted him with it, did Blaine really know how to take care of it? He was almost sure he was going to screw up.

Quinn stopped abruptly, causing Blaine to halt as well and look curiously at her. "Look, Blaine. I get it. You were unprepared. But the fact is that you can do something for Kurt. Something big."

"I'm good at pretending like I know what I'm doing," he answered earnestly. "Very good at it, actually. But right now, I'm not really sure what I can do for Kurt exactly."

She sighed. "You got him to tell you why the hot chocolate's special," Quinn said. "He told you without you asking. Kurt volunteering information about himself is big enough. But volunteering information about his _mother_? That's a completely different thing."

"I didn't even know what yesterday was until Elise told me," he argued petulantly.

Quinn crossed her arms, groaning in exasperation. "You know what? You're just as stubborn as he is. You both can't simply accept things as they are. Everything needs to be justified and reasoned and rationalized and quite frankly that's not going to get you anywhere. So. I'm asking you now. Do you really want Kurt, and you're just afraid, or are you really chickening out because you're not sure about how you feel for him? Because I swear to god Blaine Anderson, I will disembowel you and castrate you with my bare hands if I find out you're just leading him on."

Blaine cringed at the idea of Quinn's dainty fingers cutting off the family jewel, and pondered her question seriously. He was absolutely sure he was falling for Kurt. But he supposed he never realized how much baggage Kurt would come with. In the beginning, the idea of getting Kurt to crawl out of his shell with Blaine playing the knight-in-shining-armor was undeniably appealing, and maybe too good to be true. He didn't pause to consider the reality entailed in having Kurt outside of his nook. The idea of strong, independent Kurt Hummel dependent on him for something was a humbling thought, so much so that it almost left him paralyzed.

Quinn tapped her foot impatiently when Blaine didn't answer. "Well?"

"I like him a lot, Quinn," Blaine answered in earnest. "And I'm not just leading him on. But I'm kind of scared. I've been so focused on actually getting him to say yes to a date that I haven't really thought about the aftermath."

"But you like him," she confirmed.

"Would I sound completely insane to you if I said I was kind of falling for him?" he asked, looking as if he was bracing himself for Quinn to smack him on the head.

Quinn shook her head with a smile. "Unlike you and Kurt, I actually believe in destiny and fate and love at first sight. I'm a hopeless romantic. So if you say you think you're falling for him, good for you. Go act on it. Don't be afraid. You may not know what to do all the time, but if you love him, you'll figure it out."

"It's too much too soon," Blaine said in apprehension. He didn't love Kurt _yet_. Yet being the operative word. But he was pretty sure he was on the express train to falling head over heels for the man. God, that sounded insane, even to him.

She nodded, conceding. "A little, yeah," she agreed. "You're overwhelmed. I get that. But honey, apprehension is only going to paralyze you."

"I know that."

Quinn considered Blaine's demeanor for a moment, frowning. "Blaine, how did you feel when Kurt opened up to you last night? Your honest to goodness emotions."

Blaine looked up, meeting Quinn's inquisitive gaze. He licked his lips and pondered her question. "It was... Humbling," he said after a moment. "And amazing," he paused, feeling just a little tight in the chest at the memory of Kurt's faint smile of approval. "It was a feeling I wanted to feel forever," he found himself saying honestly, more to himself than to Quinn. "And seeing open up like that? It was... A _moment_."

"What kind of moment?" she asked softly, eyeing Blaine's look of awe. Blaine was looking far off, like he was in a separate world, on the outside looking in at the progress he'd made the night prior.

"Like I was looking for him forever," he replied quietly, his voice a little raw and emotional. And then he shook his head as if ridding himself of something so silly. Because, yes, it was so, entirely ridiculous. "God, that sounds crazy."

Quinn clicked her tongue. "Not really."

Blaine finally understood what Elise had said about living for the moments Kurt smiled and showed genuine emotion. He finally understood the tightness in his chest, and the appreciation that came with seeing Kurt Hummel be remotely sentimental. Elise lived for it, and Blaine was sure he could, too, if he allowed himself to. Kurt was such a character, a mystery, a puzzle he wanted to spend forever figuring out. He wanted to decipher every quirk in his personality, keep his secrets, explore his body, and love him like no one else had loved him before.

A slow, almost accepting smile spread across Blaine's lips. "It's crazy, Quinn. But I don't believe anything as crazy as this has ever made much sense to me in my life."

Quinn laughed, a bright, hearty sound bouncing off the droll white walls of the hall. "Okay, you know what? This is the problem with us doctors."

"What, we're too serious?"

"Our heads are way too up our asses. I'm sure if normal people were listening in on our conversation, they'd think _we're _crazy for not believing in things—"

"That can't be proved by science, I get it," Blaine chuckled with renewed mirth. Their laughter died down after a second, Blaine feeling considerably lighter than he did that morning. "Thank you, Quinn," he said earnestly.

Quinn winked. "You're welcome. Go get him."

He laughed again. "I'll have to wait for him to come back first."

"Won't be too long," Quinn smiled, before she cocked her head to indicate that they should be on their way.

Blaine nodded along and skipped back to his office before he slumped into his office chair, toying with the snow globe on his desk in contemplation. Kurt was hard work, he realized now. But the unexpected way he felt, the warm feeling that blossomed in his chest after seeing Kurt—it made everything worth it.

It was strange, really. He barely knew Kurt, and yet he was drawing much worth and happiness from the man without him even knowing. And although he didn't live his entire life with such a narrow spectrum of thought for the world, he had immersed himself in science long enough to incorporate much of the rigidity into his ideologies. But it was times like these that he realized what Einstein meant when he said that the more he studied the universe, the more he believed in a higher power, in something more intangible and unexplained by science. It was confusing. It was like the more he knew, the more he knew he didn't know, if that made any sense.

He spent the rest of the week and the entire weekend giddy about the prospect of being someone to Kurt, this time more assured, not blinded by uncertainties. He had a better perspective of the situation, and what could happen between them, and honestly, Blaine was excited, which was silly again because there wasn't even any assurance that Kurt felt the same way about him. It seemed that these days, all he ever was was silly and crazy.

If he wanted to do things right, he needed to take it slow and steady. He didn't want to do anything prematurely, but more importantly, Kurt was too precious, not just as a person, but _to him_ as well. Blaine was willing to bet that Quinn would make good on her disemboweling threat if he so much as pushes _too much_.

In between his private practice and time at the foundation, Blaine realized that he had already come to the fundamental reasons Kurt was the way he was. First, his mother, and then the bullying. He could relate entirely with bullying, and maybe to some extent, living without a parent. He had a good enlightened picture of the growing years Kurt had, shaping him. He was slowly coming to understand Kurt at a micro level—a habit he picked up from years of studying molecules. He liked to pick at other people's personalities, get to the nitty gritty of it all. He was usually very good at it. If people didn't have the natural affinity to volunteer the information to him, Blaine was immensely talented at reading into the smallest movements that reflected a wide scale reaction part and parcel to a person's personality.

The things he knew about Kurt were simple. He may not know everything about him yet, but he knew that Kurt was scared. Scared, but strong willed and proud. He was independent and immensely talented, but also capable of much kindness and compassion if he so willed it. But even then, Blaine believed it was human nature to _care_, and so for Kurt to act insouciant to many things must take much effort out of him. Blaine believed that with a little prodding, Kurt could let himself naturally care and get rid of the façade entirely. Indifference was tiring, but he understood that it was a defense mechanism that allowed Kurt to survive through some of the toughest years of his life. And most importantly, Blaine believed that Kurt had such great capacity to love, not just his craft and his family, but himself, and a significant other who loved him just as ferociously.

xxx

Kurt didn't return to work for another week. And when he did, even Quinn was unaware that Kurt was back in town. This was the only time Kurt could be seen acting less than professional, letting his emotions seep into his work. It was something many people overlooked considering the amount of work he put in on other days, and no one could say that the short vacation didn't do him worlds of good.

Kurt looked more relaxed, refreshed, and seemed a little lighter. Oh, he was still mostly just cordial, and socially awkward, but there was sincerity evident in his tone now, not just mere decorous pleasantry required of him as a well-educated man.

He stepped into work, greeted the secretary at the front desk, engaged in mindless chatter with Elise, and started catching up on paper work bright and early on a Monday morning.

His father's words were still thundering across his head, bouncing off and echoing, refusing to let him forget. Rationally he knew that Burt was right, that his mother wouldn't have wanted him lonely, and that life was too short to keep him locked in. But there was his pride to consider as well, and the idea that he couldn't be what anyone else needed right now. He was far too damaged, and he was certain he'd cause more harm than good. And Blaine being the only man he was remotely considering to entertain, he couldn't bear the thought of hurting him, or paining him in any manner. It was like kicking a puppy relentlessly in the stomach. Blaine was far too nice and kind and affectionate, and Kurt was sure he would turn Blaine into a cynic, hard of heart like himself, if he ever allowed Blaine to associate with him romantically.

Kurt wasn't exactly a selfish man, but he was struggling with the idea of being selfish or selfless. On the one hand, he wanted to give Blaine a chance, to give this whole other _world _a chance. But giving himself that option meant subjecting Blaine to his own cynicisms, and that meant changing Blaine, and probably not for the better. The choice was between his own happiness, and his genuine desire to protect Blaine from anything that could possibly ruin his optimistic, hopeful concept of the world.

At nine in the morning, there was a knock on the door, and Quinn popped her head, a warm smile on her face.

"Hey, you. You disappeared all week."

Kurt smiled as she made her way to him and kissed his cheek before sitting across him. "I went to see my dad."

She nodded. "I know you did. How is he?"

"Older," Kurt answered, shocking himself at the slight terror in his voice. He was afraid, yes. His father was older, and sick, and he was frightened that he was running out of time with him. It was a little ridiculous considering Burt was still very strong, but yes, he had aged. "But otherwise, he's doing well."

"Did you go up to see your mom?"

"Of course," Kurt said, waving his hand in dismissal. "How was everything while I was away?"

Quinn frowned at the change of topic, but didn't protest. "We launched the clinical trial two days the ago. The report should have been submitted to you."

Kurt nodded. "I'm going over it right now, actually."

"We're monitoring everything closely, and we'll check for drug response in three weeks. But it looks promising."

"It certainly does. But we still have to watch for side effects. I know the animal trials came up clean, but it's always different," he said, pausing. "How'd the launch go?"

"Wonderfully," Quinn answered with enthusiasm. "Blaine was very good at explaining the drug to the patients. He's quite the PR—definitely a catch for us."

Kurt snorted. "I bet he was. He's a charmer."

"He's charmed everybody at this foundation, Kurt," she said, studying his reaction carefully. "Well, everybody save for _you_."

Kurt raised his brow incredulously. "Me?" _I don't know what you're talking about. Really_.

Quinn nodded, chuckling. "He's been putting his best charms up for you, but you've only budged so much. So it's either you're incredibly good at hiding the fact that you're affected, or you're completely not amused by his tactics."

He shrugged uncomfortably. "He's a nice guy," he admitted slowly. "But he's..."

"He likes you."

Kurt chuckled despite himself. "I'm pretty sure he's made that clear."

"So you're playing hard to get?

"Of course not," he exclaimed, appalled and looking almost offended at the suggestion. "I have neither the time nor the effort to put on an act, or be coy or whatever the fuck teenage girls do these days, thank you very much."

"So why aren't you-"

"Quinn," Kurt sighed with slight exasperation. "It's not that simple."

She rolled her eyes. "I think you're the only one complicating things, Kurt." When Kurt didn't answer, she continued. "I get it, okay? I get that it's hard. But you like him. Maybe not a lot, or as much as he likes you, but you have to admit that you like him. And considering how you've never actually _liked _anyone, I think you need to take the opportunity and go out with him. One date won't hurt."

"You sound just like my father right now," Kurt commented offhandedly. If he weren't so amused that Quinn was echoing Burt's words, he'd have been extremely annoyed for being told what to do.

"We're just worried about you," she said earnestly.

"I get where you're coming from, okay? I see your point. And I'm trying to wrap my head around the idea of letting someone else into my life in that way. But just because Blaine likes me doesn't mean that person has to be him. I'm not about to throw myself at the first guy who shows interest in me. I won't do that. And I won't do it when I'm half-baked."

She raised a brow at him in question, looking every bit like the cheerio she was in high school. Bitch face and all. "Meaning?"

Kurt shrugged. "That this is a slow process, and I won't rush myself. By the time I'm actually ready for a relationship, Blaine would have probably grown tired of waiting for me."

He didn't say that he was closer than Quinn thought to wrapping his mind around the idea of getting into a relationship. He also didn't say that the real reason he was hesitant was because he liked Blaine more than he let on, and that the idea of changing the man repulsed him so completely that it was impossible to even consider. Blaine was a good guy, and he didn't want to risk changing him. And more importantly, he didn't want to be at fault for it. He would blame himself passionately if he ever realized he'd altered him so fundamentally.

Kurt was human, and he was capable of feeling attraction. He never denied that. But he was a man of science, and that meant he always put his head over his heart, let logic rule him more than his emotions. He'd liked people growing up, too, but he never acted on those feelings, not because he was scared people would bash him for being gay and judge his relationship based on its nature (although that was a legitimate fear), but more so because he had goals for his life and knew that a relationship could hold him back. He was proud of himself, and would very possibly be proud to be with a man as passionate as he was, but the right time never arrived, and so did the right emotions.

Quinn considered Kurt words, pursing her lips. "How long is it going to take before you're ready?"

"That's a ridiculous question, Quinn," he said in reprimand. "I don't know." He didn't think there was a time limit, an expiration date of sorts to a person's feelings.

"Then at least get to know the guy," she implored, thinly veiling the way she was lobbying for Blaine. "Spend time with him, get to know him, go out to dinner. It doesn't have to be a date. He can be your friend- your first _gay_ friend who actually understands you. I think he can help you sort your emotions out." Quinn wasn't deluding herself into thinking she understood Kurt completely. There were things she couldn't grasp- things she knew Blaine could probably help Kurt with. She wasn't gay, and she had spent a good part of her growing years sheltered and ignorant and so undeniably _Christian_ (and maybe to fault) that she couldn't always grasp Kurt's issues. She tried her best to be patient and understanding, but the truth of the matter was that she just couldn't relate sometimes. But good god, she worried. She worried and she _cared_ and she just wanted Kurt to be happy.

"Quinn," he sighed warily.

"I'm pretty sure he won't pressure you," she said hastily. "Just... Befriend the guy, okay? There's nothing wrong with that. I'm pretty much the only person you talk to around here. It wouldn't hurt to have another one." It wouldn't hurt to have another person in his corner.

Kurt narrowed his eyes, frowned, and then sighed as he considered Quinn's words. Fine. Just. Fine. "I suppose you're right"

"Blaine doesn't have to be anything more than a friend, Kurt," she said reassuringly, reaching across the desk to take Kurt's hand. "But at least give him that."

* * *

I know. The build-up is slow. But it's worth it, I promise. Thanks for reading, guys! Hope you liked it!


	9. Chapter 7b

AN: Update time! Thanks for reading and reviewing the last chapter. I'm really glad people are reading this. =)

Anyway. This was supposed to be two parts, but I decided to compress them so the whole story wouldn't be too long. Kurt and Blaine can go squee now.

Thanks again!

* * *

It is said that when Albert Einstein had an idea he wanted to toy around with, he would gather food and drink and then proceed to lock himself up in his laboratory for days on end until he finally had a breakthrough. He would slave day and night, dedicating all his time to the realization of his theories so that once he emerged from his laboratory's confines, he would have made a difference.

Blaine didn't fancy himself the next Albert Einstein, nor did he see himself at par with him. He could only dare view himself in the same light as the great man in his dedication, maybe not with his science, because Blaine wasn't as obsessed as some people he knew, but in the very act of persevering.

Kurt had arrived the day prior, but Blaine was busy with his private practice to come by the foundation and say hello. He had been neglecting the practice in favor of the research, and maybe, sheepishly, in favor of Kurt too, but he knew now that he had to balance his time wisely. He had hospital rounds today, and would only be free after three in the afternoon, which he reckoned was perfect. He would have just enough time to buy Kurt's coffee, and be at the laboratory at promptly 4:15 to resume his coffee-bearing ritual.

And so that was what happened. By four in the afternoon, he had a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, walking briskly to the foundation just in case Kurt decided today was the day he would go home early (unlikely, but still). He passed by Quinn in the lobby, and paused very briefly to kiss her cheek before she laughingly sent him along his way, hollering a good luck of sorts over her shoulder.

He reached the laboratory, took a moment to catch his breath and then arranged his expression. Finally, he opened to door, ready with a jovial greeting, only to be slightly (no, _immensely_) crestfallen as he realized the laboratory was empty. Absolutely empty. He tried to quell his disappointment with some harsh mental chiding. _Of course_ Kurt needed to rest. _Of course_ he wouldn't stay over time today. He had just gotten back from a trip, after all, and was probably exhausted. He of all people should've known how tiresome a trip might be.

Great.

He was blowing off some steam and still mentally berating himself when Todd walked past him, eyeing him curiously as he passed the laboratory entrance.

"Aren't you off today?" he asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Blaine stared at him before swallowing. "Yeah, I uh... I'm off today. But I was hoping to catch someone... I'm too late, I guess."

Todd raised an amused brow at him. "Man, you're not as subtle as you think you are," he chuckled.

Blaine glared, not appreciating the amusement. "Yeah well, you aren't either. Quinn is thoroughly amused, and slightly pissed off, that you haven't found your balls and asked her out yet."

Todd stopped mid-chuckle and sobered up, staring incredulously at Blaine.

Realizing that he came off as harsh, and yes, hostile, (and maybe inappropriate, too) Blaine sighed in apology. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. It's just been a stressful week" _without Kurt_, he wanted to add, but caught himself just in time. He was excited to see him, really, and the expectation fell flat when he realized the laboratory was unoccupied.

Todd shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he said kindly. "There's no need to be snappy though. He's catching up on some paperwork in his office."

Blaine looked up, his eyes lighting up in excitement. "You're not shitting me?"

He shook his head, grinning. "Nope. I just bumped into Elise before she left, says Kurt's locking up the floor tonight. Again."

Blaine bit his lip, trying to hide how giddy he felt. "Thank you." Goddamn it, he was excited to see Kurt. He felt like a schoolboy with the biggest crush on his teacher, and it hardly seemed manly.

Todd grinned back at him. "Anytime," he said, and watched as Blaine started to walk away. "And hey," he called out. Blaine turned around to look at him. Todd chuckled. "I'll ask Quinn out tomorrow."

Blaine laughed heartily as he continued to walk on. "You better!"

Exactly a minute and a half later, Blaine found himself in front of Kurt's office door, feeling slightly nervous as he tapped on it thrice.

"Come in," he heard Kurt say, and he took a deep, calming breath before he opened the door and smiled at Kurt.

"Hey," Blaine greeted, his head barely poking through the door. He was trying to gage Kurt's mood, and temper it, hopefully.

Kurt looked up from the file he was studying and offered Blaine a kind smile. "Hey."

"Can I come in?" he asked uncertainly.

Kurt nodded, and watched as Blaine entered and shut the door behind him.

"I brought you coffee," Blaine explained as he set the cup in front of Kurt. "As a welcome back of sorts."

Kurt eyed the cup, and reminded himself of Quinn's words (_be friendly_, she had scolded), before licking his lips and smiling earnestly. "Thank you."

Kurt's dimple appeared when he smiled, and Blaine almost melted right there and then. It was adorable, and made Kurt more beautiful than he already was. He wondered why he never noticed it before, and realized belatedly that dimples usually showed when a person smiles—a rare occurrence for Kurt.

Blaine stood awkwardly in front of Kurt's desk, not knowing how else to go on. Kurt bit his lip in contemplation before he gestured to the seat in front of his desk, hoping to dissipate the discomfiture.

"You can take a seat, Blaine," he said kindly.

Blaine looked shocked. Really, truly, honestly shocked that he didn't have time to school his features. He was caught off guard, and he stammered for a reply. Was Kurt really offering to spend time with him? Willingly? "I don't want to impose... Or you know... Be a bother."

Kurt shrugged. "I won't be much pleasant company with all this paperwork, but you're welcome to stay and regale me with stories about the week I was away," he said, trying to sound casual.

A small, happy smile settled on Blaine's lips before he nodded, taking a seat in front of Kurt. "If you're sure."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm never unsure, Dr. Anderson. That you must know."

Blaine chuckled, and babbled on about the sexual tension between Todd and Quinn, how the clinical trial's launch went, and endless gossip about the foundation, with Kurt commenting off-handedly even as he filled some documents. The hour and a half Blaine spent talking felt like five minutes to Blaine, even though Kurt barely said much. Yes, he contributed to the conversation kindly, but he let Blaine talk on and on. It was nothing personal—the topics were completely neutral and safe, nothing that ventured into the big, pink elephant in the room. It wasn't until Blaine's stomach rumbled loudly that he realized the time, smiling sheepishly at Kurt who was looking at him with amusement, clearly hearing his stomach growl.

"Sorry," Blaine said sheepishly. "I haven't had anything since lunch, and I usually grab dinner by 5."

At first, Kurt's expression was unreadable, until he chuckled good-naturedly. "Then by all means, don't let me keep you, Dr. Anderson. You're free to grab something to eat."

Blaine raised a brow. "Aren't you hungry?"

Kurt shrugged. "I don't usually eat until ten."

Blaine choked a bit at the declaration. "I don't think my stomach'll last til ten. All that gastric acid'll have eaten up my lining by then. Gastric ulcers, you know? They're not good for people who love good food. Like me."

Kurt chuckled, the medical jargon not lost on him as he realized how endearingly dorky Blaine was. He thoroughly enjoyed listening to Blaine talk so animatedly in the last hour and a half, feeling his heart swell at how childlike Blaine sometimes was.

"Well, go ahead then," Kurt answered, looking up from his file and setting the pen on the desk. "You don't have to wait for me. I don't want to be the cause of your gastric ulcers, ergo your inability to enjoy any sort of good food henceforth," Kurt laughed.

Blaine bit his lip uncertainly. "You don't want to grab dinner with me?" His voice was almost timid, and it didn't quite match the image Blaine wanted to project.

Kurt was slightly taken aback by the invitation. "I... Still need to finish some work," he managed, eyeing Blaine suspiciously.

He shrugged, a small smirk on his face. "Well I'm not about to leave you here alone."

"This isn't the latest I've stayed here, Dr. Anderson," Kurt said with amusement. "I assure you I'll be fine."

Blaine adjusted himself in his seat, matching the slight defiance in Kurt's stature with a comical one of his own. "As I see it, there are two options here."

Kurt raised a brow at him questioningly. "Oh?"

He nodded, looking just on the verge of devious. "Either I get take out around the corner and come back here and force feed you while you work. Or... You get up like the nice gentleman you are and join me for dinner."

There was a pregnant pause as Kurt considered Blaine's proposal, his eyebrow remaining quirked.

"I..." Kurt started, unknowing how to respond to such a forward offer.

Blaine leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk and looking at Kurt just bordering on pleadingly. "Come on, Kurt," he urged. "It's not a date, if that's what you're thinking. Just think of it as two _highly attractive _colleagues sharing ideas over a meal."

Kurt snorted at Blaine's quip. "Highly attractive?" he questioned with a smirk.

Blaine grinned, nodding. "Do you beg to differ?" he challenged.

Kurt paused before shaking his head, laughing. "No. No, I do not beg to differ."

Encouraged, Blaine's grin widened and he leaned forward more. "Exactly. So. Dinner?"

It took only another second before Kurt sighed in acquiescence, smiling faintly at Blaine. Blaine wouldn't back down, that much was obvious, and if he wanted to start opening himself up, now was as good a time as any. "Just let me finish this file, then we can go."

Blaine's grin at that was shit-eating, struggling to contain the thrill of getting Kurt to agree to him. It wasn't a date, obviously. Blaine would want that to be special, and romantic—something that can convince Kurt to give them a chance. But he promised he'd make tonight memorable. He felt oddly celebratory.

Ten minutes later, Kurt closed the file, and pulled out of the chair, stacking up the papers neatly before sliding them into drawer. Blaine watched as Kurt cleared his desk, chuckling at the way Kurt aligned his pens obsessively.

"You're not obsessive compulsive, are you?" he asked with just a bit of seriousness.

Kurt raised a brow, still seeming guarded, but loose enough to work with. "No. I'm just a fan of order," he said curtly, offering a small smile to quell how snobby he must have sounded.

Blaine nodded as Kurt arranged the last of his things and grabbed his jacket. He did a once over of the room, biting his lip before nodding in Blaine's direction.

"I suppose I'm ready," he said.

Blaine stood up, gathering his coat and briefcase and flashing Kurt a smile. "Awesome. Let's go, then."

xxx

"Where are we going?" Kurt asked as Blaine wove them through the busy New York crowd, about five blocks from the foundation.

Blaine turned and slowed his pace, smiling up at Kurt. "There's a place about two more blocks down that I like to go to when I'm not too tired."

Kurt cocked his head to the side, matching Blaine's pace amicably. "And this place is?"

"Thai," he said simply. "I hope you're into curry. They have the best beef red curry."

"Thai sounds good," Kurt said, surprising even himself at how light he felt and sounded. "I haven't had a good Thai iced tea in a while."

Blaine flashed him a grin. "You're in luck then," he said, as he stopped abruptly, and gestured towards the restaurant.

Kurt held back a smile as Blaine opened the door for him, and got them seated in the back corner, the waitress smiling at Blaine, obviously familiar with him.

"This place looks... Authentic," Kurt commented as he settled into his seat.

Blaine nodded, watching Kurt pick up the menu and peruse it. "It's family-run," he replied, his heart swelling a bit at Kurt's subtle approval.

After a moment, Kurt cleared his throat and met Blaine's expectant gaze. "Do you want to do the ordering, since you know what's good?"

"Do you mind if we put everything in the center and shared?"

Kurt shrugged. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Blaine smiled and called the waitress, rattling off his favorites and then ordering two Thai iced teas for them. The waitress nodded and stalked to the kitchen, Blaine watching her go away before turning to face Kurt. Kurt smiled at him shyly, trying to feel comfortable around him.

"So..." Blaine started, trying to ease them into real conversation. "How was your trip?"

"Good," Kurt answered. "I got to see my dad, and visit my mom so..."

"You do that every year?"

Kurt stiffened, forcing himself to open up. He definitely wasn't used to talking about something bordering on personal, especially to someone he barely knew. He was only so comfortable talking with his father and closest friends, but he desperately wanted to open up to Blaine at the same time that he didn't. It was confusing, and entirely conflicting, but he struggled to remain neutral and let the conversation lead to wherever it would freely.

"As much as I could," he answered after a second. "I've only missed her anniversary twice. Once in college, when I was drunk and stupid," he said dryly. "And once in med school."

Blaine was well aware of Kurt's struggle to share, and his measured countenance in terms of the things he said. Kurt sharing things, no matter how small or mundane, was cause of joy for Blaine.

"What happened in med school?" he asked, smiling briefly at the waitress who had set their drinks on the table.

Kurt shrugged. "I had a pedia exam," he said. "I remember working my ass off on it. I figured if I was gonna miss my mom's anniversary, I might as well make it worth it."

Blaine paused, his face between a frown and a smile. There was a bit of bitterness in Kurt's tone, he noted, and he wondered why he still harbored it how many years later. "You're very driven, Kurt," he said quietly.

"I like to be in control," Kurt corrected. "I'm a control freak."

Blaine smiled wryly. "There's nothing wrong with losing control some of the time."

Kurt snorted. "The last time I did, I ended up with a terrible hangover in some anonymous asshole's bed. I didn't get to study for a midterm, and I almost failed."

He chuckled. "I'm guessing this one was in college?"

Kurt nodded, feeling a little looser now. It wasn't easy talking about himself, but the conscious effort was helping. "Yeah. Promised myself I'd never hook up again— a promise I've kept, mind you."

Blaine winced inwardly. Did that mean Kurt hadn't been intimate with anyone since college? That was... Depressing. If that ever happened to Blaine, he probably would have died of sexual frustration, unless of course he masturb—no. He wouldn't let his thoughts run that way. He swallowed thickly, and licked his lips, flashing Kurt a nervous smile.

"That's... Impressive," he finally settled.

Kurt raised a brow at him. "It's called control," he answered dryly. "What about you, Blaine? Any crazy stories about yourself?"

It was Blaine's turn to raise a brow. "I doubt not hooking up with anyone is considered a crazy enough story to merit one of my own." Folding his hands on the table, Blaine sat up straighter, a subtle twinkle in his eye. "But I'll tell one if you tell one."

"I don't have one," Kurt said evenly. "I never lose control."

Blaine sniggered. "I'm pretty sure there's at least one," he said with disbelief.

Kurt stared at him, his eyes leveled as he studied Blaine. He was very good at standing his ground and not giving in, and he intended to put that talent to good use.

"Come on," Blaine urged when Kurt said nothing. "We exchange a story each. I don't think that's too much to ask."

For a moment, Blaine thought Kurt would release some snarky retort before retreating into the cold, harsh man he was commonly known as. He was afraid he'd pushed him a bit too far, and prodded (or pried) too much for comfort. But Kurt sighed finally, relenting.

"Fine," Kurt said. "But you have to start." Kurt's face was completely devoid of emotion, unreadable.

Blaine's eyes widened, before his face was covered in sheer excitement at the prospect. "Awesome!" he exclaimed, and Kurt couldn't help but eye him a little with fondness.

"Go," Kurt said lightly, leaning back on the chair. "Let's hear that crazy story."

Blaine laughed heartily. "All right, fine," he said, conjuring up the memory. "It was the summer after college, the one right before med school, and my friends thought it would be a great idea to—wait," he paused. "You have to promise me you won't judge me. Everything we talk about on this table stays here."

Kurt nodded seriously. "Okay."

"Do you promise?" Blaine asked, setting his elbow on the table then holding up his pinky with a mischievous grin on his face. It was a little childish, but it was part of his charm.

Kurt eyed the pinky skeptically, almost recoiling in disdain. "I promise."

Blaine frowned—no, _pouted _stubbornly. "It's not a promise 'til you pinky it."

Kurt's brow furrowed in amused confusion. "Blaine, we could just shake on it like the gentlemen we are," he pointed out with a bit of a laugh.

"Now, where's the fun in that?" Blaine countered, his eyes twinkling as he held his pinky out more, wiggling it for emphasis.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt looped his pinky with Blaine's, trying to conceal his blush with a light, "I swear, sometimes I think you're gay-er than I am. And that's saying a lot considering I'm as gay as they get. Stereotypes, you know?"

Blaine only continued to smile goofily as they pulled their pinkies apart and he proceeded to tell his tale. By the time Blaine finished his story, and Kurt was snorting out his iced tea, their food had arrived.

"I can't believe you did that," Kurt exclaimed, struggling to catch his breath. "That poor man's underwear would have—"

"Hey!" Blaine said in a jokingly petulant manner. "We said no judging." The corners of his mouth were tilted upward at Kurt's mirth though.

Kurt gasped in a little more air until he calmed down enough, still grinning from ear to ear as he eyed Blaine. "You're a crazy man, Dr. Anderson."

"I've been told," Blaine answered. "Blaine Crazy Anderson. M.D."

He chuckled a little more before his eyes flashed to the food spread out before them. "This looks great," he said.

Blaine raised a brow. "Don't think you're getting out of this, Hummel," Blaine said. "You still owe me a story."

Kurt grinned sheepishly. "I had my fingers crossed behind me when we did the pinky swear thing," he teased. "I don't owe you anything."

Blaine glared at him playfully. "That's not fair. You're a cheater."

"I'm a good schemer."

Blaine whined. "Come on! What's the craziest thing you've done?"

Kurt laughed. "You can't get it out of me," Kurt said as he took a forkful of Pad Thai and plated it. "Not even Quinn knows."

He pouted again. "You're no fun, Kurt," he said as he himself got some beef curry on his plate.

Kurt only laughed in amusement. "You should know by now, Dr. Anderson, that I'm barely any fun."

"Except you're having fun right now after seeing me embarrass myself with a stupid story about my youth."

He only grinned a little sadistically in response before he took a bite of his noodles, his expression changing immediately. "Oh my god, this is delicious!"

"Told you," Blaine answered, taking a bite of his beef. "I'll get you next time though."

Kurt nodded, the topic closed as he savored his food.

Throughout dinner, they talked about more neutral things, their conversation light and easy. If Kurt was honest, he hadn't allowed himself to be this easy with anyone. By the end of the night, they were strolling slowly through the streets of New York, under the pretense of walking off all that they ate, but was really just an excuse for the night not to end, at least for Blaine.

"I'm glad you liked the food," Blaine said casually, digging his hands into his coat's pocket against the chilly air.

Kurt nodded. "I enjoyed it," Kurt answered. "Not just the food, but the company too." He flashed Blaine a shy smile, his eyes earnest.

Blaine almost felt his heart stop at Kurt's quiet declaration, his cheeks heating up. "I—"

"I haven't had this much fun in a while," Kurt admitted honestly, training his eyes back to watch where they were going. "So thank you."

Blaine could only nod, stuttering a "You're welcome," before he made a fool of himself. "Think we could do this again?" he asked after a moment.

He didn't hear Kurt's sharp intake of breath, or feel his heart pounding. But it was fact. Kurt struggled to form coherent thought as he turned his head slightly to watch Blaine. "I... Suppose we could. As friends," he clarified.

Blaine licked his lips, gathering his thoughts. "I actually would like to take you out on a date," he said, thanking God that his voice remained even, not betraying his nerves. He had just asked Kurt Hummel on a date again. And he was pretty sure he was going to be turned down. _Again_.

Kurt frowned, looking genuinely apologetic. "I'm sorry, Blaine. I... I mean. You're a good guy and all, but I... I'm not looking into dating anyone. At least not yet."

"I don't understand why—" he tried to protest.

"Blaine, I've been more honest with you than I have been with anyone else," Kurt said a little firmly. "I want to be friends with you. I really do. You're surprisingly very easy to be around with. But I'm not ready for a relationship, or for anything casual. I'm still... Trying to warm up, here," he explained, flashing Blaine a nervous smile as he silent plead for patience.

Blaine was silent as Kurt's words washed over him, nodding in reluctant understanding. "Friends," he said quietly, toying around with the word.

Kurt nodded. "Yeah." He didn't mention that he liked him, and that he didn't want to rush because he was afraid of hurting him. He didn't mention that the minute attraction he had felt for him on the first day had grown significantly, and that the idea of losing control terrified him. No. Instead, he gave him half the truth, figuring that Blaine deserved at least that. "I'm really sorry, Blaine."

Blaine exhaled slowly. "No, don't be. I completely understand."

Kurt turned his head. "Yeah?"

He nodded, smiling encouragingly at Kurt. "I get it. You aren't ready. So I'll be your friend. For now at least."

Kurt tilted his head curiously, a wordless question about Blaine's meaning.

Blaine shrugged. "I really like you, Kurt. And if right now, all you need is a friend, then I'll happily be that friend. But when you're ready for more than that, I'll be in the wings waiting."

Kurt frowned, sighing as they walked past a couple kissing on the sidewalk. "I can't ask that of you, Blaine. That's cruel."

"You're not asking me to," Blaine said simply, his voice turning lighter. "I want to."

Kurt stopped walking, making Blaine halt as well. Blaine was looking at him curiously, but Kurt was just staring with a whole lot of incredulity in his eyes. It occurred to him then what kind of man Blaine was. He was considerate, maybe more than he should be, and entirely good. That was just it. He was _good_. He was a good man with a good heart. Kurt didn't know what possessed this man to even think about waiting for him, and he felt guilty. Here was a man who was willing to move mountains for him, and here he was, afraid and _searching_, trying to maneuver through an entirely different way of life. He liked Blaine, so much. But he felt guilty that he wasn't ready, and that Blaine was willing to wait.

It felt incredibly selfish to stand by and get ready with Blaine being a good friend but waiting on the sidelines, perhaps expecting more. That selfish feeling was never going to wear off, he knew right there and then. Because even if he insisted that Blaine not wait, that he was free to date whoever he wanted, he knew Blaine wouldn't. And moreover, he wasn't sure he wanted that. He wasn't sure he wanted Blaine to be with anyone else. What he wanted was Blaine. But he didn't want to rush.

"I..."

Blaine raised his hand up to stop Kurt from saying anything more. "I think you're worth it, Kurt. I'll be your friend until you're ready. And when you're ready but find that you don't want me, then that's okay too. I'll still be your friend."

Kurt shifted uncomfortably. This was territory he was purely unknowing of. They were talking emotions—talking friendship, talking waiting, talking about a whole new spectrum Kurt didn't know how to weave through. He didn't know how to be anyone's friend unless this friend was someone he'd known through high school. So with a quiet nod, he met Blaine's compassionate honey eyes and smiled slightly. "Thank you."

Blaine returned the smile, squeezing at Kurt's upper arm lightly. "You're welcome, friend," he replied with a wink, holding his hand out for Kurt to shake.

Kurt eyed the hand before chuckling. "What, no pinkies this time?"

Blaine shook his head. "No, I've learned my lesson. We'll shake on this _like the gentlemen we are_," he echoed Kurt's earlier words.

Laughing and feeling like a weight was lifted off his chest, Kurt slipped his cold hand into Blaine's warm one, gripping it firmly and shaking while ignoring the blush on his cheeks. He decided that the heat down his neck at the contact was because of his warm coat, and not because of Blaine's hand in his.

* * *

Like I said- slow build up. Blaine's assimilation isn't painfully slow, but they have to go through some obstacles to get there. But I call this progress. Haha. Kurt's stubborn, but I think you'll see more of canon Kurt in the following chapters.

Thanks for reading, guys!


	10. Chapter 8a

AN: So, the ball is rolling for Kurt and Blaine. This and maybe two or three chapters after this tackles Blaine's effect on Kurt, so expect to see some aspects of canon Kurt to make an appearance. Thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing the last chapter.

I finished writing the whole story last night. I've yet to edit, but you can expect this story to be done in the next week or so. Thanks for sticking with me!

- I still own nothing.

* * *

He doesn't know what possessed him. He's been so out of practice at being anyone's friend that he could scarcely imagine himself being friends with Blaine Anderson. Yes, he was coming to terms with the fact that he liked the man, but for him to so easily offer friendship despite the apparent confusion bewildered him somewhat.

In one of his and Rachel's movie nights, Rachel had forced him to see some sappy movie called A Walk to Remember. He had been adamant initially, the subject about death by cancer still burning a hole in his head. But Rachel Berry is nothing if not persistent, and she very validly pointed out that the cancer wasn't the point. The point was that here was a girl so ready to die and strong in her ideals allowing herself to love before it was too late. Here was a girl who, despite a terminal illness and the pending inevitability of death, was able to put aside her own concerns and allow herself to go with wherever (or _whoever_) life led her to. At that time, Kurt matched Rachel's insistence with insistence of his own, and argued that it didn't apply to him—that Jamie Sullivan was selfish for letting herself fall in love with a man, and a man fall in love with her, when she had so little time left. The point of the entire thing was that one must be responsible and steadfast when it comes to emotions because we're all prone to going by the wayside when we're under the influence of strong feelings. But Rachel argued that emotions can only be controlled so much, and that even death cannot stop a person from loving, and living.

It didn't make sense to Kurt then, but it was starting to now. It was starting to dawn on him that although one can control things like anger, or relaxation, or discomfort, there are certain things man can only fight for so long. Like disappointment. Like sadness. Like happiness. Like _love_. Man is only capable of being in control of so many things, and sooner or later, the universe will pluck you out of wherever your are, abruptly or not, and coerce you to believe in things you've previously called yourself skeptical to. Kurt was slowly starting to realize that despite his own rigidity, and his steadfast (or stubborn) fixation on being in control of everything, floorboards shift constantly beneath him, and he won't always know or be capable of steering the direction with which the floorboards shift.

That was how Kurt found himself in the middle of Central Park, on a bench underneath a tree on one of his rare days off. He usually didn't like to come here to think, preferring a little more white noise. Actually, he usually _didn't have to think_. When one is accustomed to a certain way of living, everything else is second nature, almost robotic and inhuman. Deep, emotional thoughts only went so far for Kurt Hummel, but here he was now, on a chilly spring afternoon, his fingers frozen stiff, sitting in Central Park and _wondering_.

He looked in the mirror this morning and didn't recognize himself. He didn't recognize the man staring back at him. He could only vaguely remember what he looked like when he was young and carefree and untouched by the realities of the world. For most of his life, the man that greeted him when he looked in the mirror was clinical, sad even, but stubbornly unaware of it. But this morning, as he made to get ready to shop for groceries, he wondered when in life he had decided that it was okay to be the way he was. He wondered how his juvenile, addled brain ever justified all that he was, all that he wasn't, and all that he was going to be. His mother's death had made him cold of heart, but not frozen. And then puberty hit, and he and the rest of the world realized he was gay and he was picked on constantly. He supposed that made him hard, solid, and unrelenting.

He tried to evaluate everything. Logically he knew this couldn't be healthy. That as a scientist, he knew that human interaction and sociability was just as much an important part of psychology as was cold, factual science. And it's not that he didn't want human interaction—_war m_human interaction on a daily basis. It's just that he's never tried, and never actually met anyone he deemed worthy of his time and effort.

But here was Blaine Anderson. Sweet, charming, dapper Blaine Anderson who wanted to love Kurt, and who Kurt wanted to love back. He'd be a downright liar if he said he wasn't fighting through the coldness for Blaine, but the idea of being hopelessly in love, of throwing himself at a man he knew for a month, give or take and changing his dynamic was crazy all together.

Flicking off a fallen leaf from his lap, Kurt sighed. Never in a million years did he think he would be thrown off course so easily. It shocked him to know that a part of him, however minuscule that part may be, actually wanted to be thrown off course. It was like that minuscule part of him had been screaming his entire life, protesting the way he had lived most of it, and trying to break through the barriers of his heart. That part of him was never silent, always insistent, but also weak and infinitely ignored. But now, it was gathering momentum at a pace Kurt could barely keep up with and comprehend, and he wasn't sure if the precaution he was taking was more for Blaine's sake, or more for him.

Startling him out of his thoughts was the shrill ring of his cellular phone, jolting him awake from his half-dozed stance on the bench. He fumbled through his coat pocket and squinted against the glare of the sunlight to reveal a call from said Blaine Anderson.

Suppressing a groan, he slid his finger across the bar and held the phone to his ear. "Dr. Hummel speaking," he greeted stiffly.

"What, you don't screen your calls?" a chuckling voice answered in lieu of a greeting, seemingly in a good mood.

Kurt rolled his eyes at this. "No, I do not. I'm a busy person," he said, lying through his teeth but retaining the stiffness in his voice.

Blaine's hearty laugh traveled through the wires, warming Kurt's cheeks and ears. "I know you are," Blaine answered. "But it's your day off today."

"And how do I suppose you know this?"

"Well, I stopped by the office today and dropped off some files. Quinn mentioned you were off. I am too."

"Of course you are," Kurt answered, slightly sarcastic. "I don't suppose you're calling because you want to hang out."

"That's exactly why I'm calling," Blaine replied jovially. "I mean, if you're not doing anything else, that is," he amended. "I don't want to impose."

Kurt bit his lip, the minuscule part of himself that wanted to be reckless suddenly growing infinitely as he replied, digging its feet in the ground solidly. "You're not imposing."

The quick silence across the line betrayed Blaine's shock, but he quickly recovered. "Great. What are you doing right now?"

"Judging people's fashion choices at Central Park."

"Oh?"

"These tourists need to learn that one can travel chic too," he said haughtily. "I am thoroughly unimpressed by the misguided layering. It's hurting my eyes."

Blaine chuckled, not noticing that Kurt had failed to mention that he wasn't, in the very least, paying attention to the people around him. "Well, I'm no expert at fashion, but do you mind if I join you in the panel of judges?"

Kurt had to remind himself of his resolution to ward against the bubbling disagreement. Blaine was a friend, or was trying to, and it was in his best interest to play nice, and be sincere about it. "No, I don't mind at all," he replied finally.

Blaine's grin grew impossibly wider as he crossed the street from the foundation, walking the few blocks to Fifth Avenue. "Where are you exactly?"

"East, by 72nd."

"I'm out by 55th so I need to take the bus. Stay right where you are though."

"Like I have anywhere else to go?"

Blaine shrugged. "Just stay put."

"I will," Kurt said, leaning back on the bench and watching the birds peck on the ground. "Alice in Wonderland," he added as an afterthought.

"Alice in Wonderland, got it," Blaine answered. "I'll see you in a bit, Kurt."

Kurt nodded and shut the phone, trying not to think about the last time he spent his day off with anybody other than Rachel. It hurt his head trying to decipher the complexities that was his life at present so he kept his mind carefully blank until Blaine arrived, holding two cups of steaming coffee and bearing a wide grin.

"I don't understand how you can stand this cold," Blaine said in greeting as he approached Kurt, handing him a cup.

Kurt took it gratefully, nestling it between his frozen fingers. "You kind of get used to it after the winters in Ohio," he answered as Blaine took a seat beside him. He took a sip of his coffee and smiled gently at Blaine. "Thanks for the coffee. I'll have to buy you one in exchange of the bazillion you've bought for me."

Blaine waved him off. "Hey, it's what friends do," he assured.

Kurt was pretty sure that wasn't what friends did. He may have been out of practice but he didn't think he'd bought coffee for Quinn everyday. But he dropped the subject and turned his head to the body of water before them.

"Is this your favorite spot in New York?" Blaine asked, attempting to start a conversation.

Kurt shrugged in response. "When Times Square is too busy, like in the afternoons and stuff, yeah. But otherwise, I get most thinking done on the TKTS stairs."

"Yeah?"

He nodded, his fingers warming through the cup holder. "Even when I'm in the middle of so much commotion, I find it peaceful. If I weren't a doctor now, I'd probably be a stage actor."

Blaine turned his head curiously at Kurt. "I think I can picture you as an actor."

"Oh?"

Blaine nodded, narrowing his eyes to study Kurt. "From what Quinn's told me of your Glee Club, you seem to be pretty talented."

Kurt shrugged. "It was an outlet. High school is brutal. I don't think I would have survived as much as I did without the New Directions."

"So if that was your outlet then, what's your outlet now?" Blaine asked. "I mean, as a doctor, I understand you're under a lot of stress. I can't imagine how much a person could break when faced with death everyday."

Pausing to think about his answer, Kurt kept his eyes locked ahead of him, not meeting Blaine's expectant gaze. "I... Don't know," he said finally. "I guess I haven't found one yet. But a walk or sitting here clears my head as I imagine playing the piano or singing does for you."

Blaine furrowed his brow, puzzled. "I don't believe I've mentioned playing the piano to you before."

Kurt turned his head look at Blaine in the eyes. "I read people well," he said as an explanation. For despite his social inabilities, Kurt wasn't entirely offline. Not socializing verbally meant he knew to read people through their small gestures, through their eyes, through language completely separate from words. "You've mentioned off the bat when we met that you like singing. You think quick on your feet, which makes me believe you know how to read music. When you associate notes on a page to notes on an instrument, you're quick," Kurt said.

Nodding, impressed, Blaine answered thoughtfully. "But why the piano?" He wasn't going to lie—Kurt noticing small things about him made his toes curl giddily.

Lifting his cold hand, he unthinkingly grasped Blaine's equally frozen one and brushed his thumb over Blaine's fingers, shocking Blaine. "You have long, slender digits," Kurt explained more, his eyes pressed on their hands and seemingly unaware of Blaine's reaction. "I went on a hunch with the piano, but I wasn't sure if it was that or the guitar." His voice was thoughtful, but his fingers kept brushing Blaine's almost reverently, not bothered by the arguable impropriety of the act. "But judging by how calloused your fingertips are, I'm not so sure."

Blaine gulped, trying to keep his face from flushing at the steady contact of his fingers with Kurt's. A brush of the fingertips wasn't what Blaine called romantic or sexy before today, but now he was hard pressed not to get a boner right there. Making sure his voice was steady, he cleared his throat and forced a smile on his face. "Both. I play both."

Kurt looked up and met Blaine's sheepish gaze, still keeping their fingers in contact. "Do you play often?"

Blaine shrugged. "It's my outlet," he said, echoing their conversation's origins. "I play every night; keeps my fingers loose for when I decide I want to take a surgery fellowship."

Raising a brow, Kurt frowned. "More studying?"

"It's just a thought," Blaine replied meekly, eyeing their fingers and blushing.

Suddenly remembering that yes, indeed their fingers were still touching, Kurt embarrassedly let go of Blaine's hand, licking his lips and brushing his palms on his jeans shyly. "Sorry about that."

"It's no problem," Blaine said, a little flustered even though he was aching for them to touch again. Good god, what he would give to have Kurt's hand in his all the fucking time.

Kurt cleared his throat to clear away the awkward air between them. "So..."

"So?" Blaine asked, feeling the tension between them rise a little.

Kurt turned is head to Blaine again, and Blaine could see Kurt's mental debate reflected in the uncertainty in his expression. "Um..."

"Yes?" Blaine urged, knowing Kurt had something to say but was either too afraid, or too shy to do it.

Sighing, Kurt shook his head and smiled. _Fuck it_, he thought. "I have two complimentary tickets for tonight's showing of Wicked. My best friend Rachel is in the chorus." Even as he spoke, Kurt couldn't believe he was about to do this. He had planned on seeing the show by himself that night, but Blaine was there, being nice and perfect and _friendly _that Kurt couldn't resist.

Blaine's expectant expression grew, and he swore he almost pissed himself in anticipation, knowing where Kurt was heading. But he said nothing, letting Kurt continue.

"So... You know..." Kurt struggled. "If you're not busy, and you're up to see the show, my extra ticket is yours."

Kurt had seen Wicked countless times now, especially since Rachel joined the production. Blaine had seen it once, when he first moved to New York, and he smiled at Kurt's endearing efforts to be more sociable, all the while trying to squash down the urge to sing some bright, cheery show tune in exultation.

"Are you asking me to be your date?" Blaine teased lightly, hoping he hadn't gone too far with the statement considering he had just been friend-zoned some nights ago. He also hoped his voice didn't betray how twitter patted he was feeling, already bursting at the seams.

Kurt chuckled. "I may or may not be asking you to accompany me. As a friend," he clarified.

Blaine laughed but nodded. "In that case, I would love to accompany you," he replied a little breathily.

Kurt smiled in return. "You don't mind staying a bit longer to meet Rachel after the show?"

He shook his head, feeling like he had just achieved a small triumph. There was a celebratory party going on in the back of his head, overflowing drinks being passed around and turning him drunk with excitement. But he reminded himself that they were simply friends. "Not at all."

"You're not busy or anything, right?"

"Nope. I'm free as a bird tonight."

"Cool," Kurt replied. "I hope this counts for about five of the ten thousand cups of coffee you've brought me," he said, smiling a bit. "Or that one cup of hot chocolate," he added a little more quietly.

Blaine's expression softened, and he sobered at the mention of the hot chocolate. Without thinking, he reached out and squeezed Kurt's knee in comfort. "Kurt..."

"Thank you for that, by the way. I don't think I've told you how much I appreciate that. Made me feel better."

A beat, and then, "Well I'm glad," Blaine replied. "But you don't have to thank me for anything. Friends, right?"

Kurt met Blaine's gaze, and nodded, ignoring the slight ache in his heart as he answered, "Yeah. Friends."

They spent the rest of the day people-watching, commenting on the tourists' fashion choices and exchanging fashion ideas of their own. This was when Kurt learned that Blaine wasn't much of a designer label man, except for his Armani suits. He liked to shop at (heaven forbid) The Gap, Brooks Brothers, and J. Crew, with a fixation on sweater vests and bow ties. Kurt suggested knit cardigans, and they loosely agreed to go shopping for him sometime in the future. In turn, Blaine learned that Kurt worked endless hours at his father's garage in high school to pay for designer pieces, some of which he kept to today. He adored Y-3 and Marc Jacobs, and his total weakness was scarves. Blaine learned that Kurt used to be all about making statements, but toned it down to an acceptable level when the bullies started involving his father, calling their landline and insulting him to his father's face.

It was honestly more than Kurt had shared to anyone in years, but the story of how much he changed because he didn't want to burden his father rolled off his tongue so easily. It couldn't have been the story itself that made it so easy, because over the years, it had become increasingly harder to talk about events of his childhood that made him who he was. No, Kurt concluded. It was the company. Blaine was such an easy person to talk to, and not for the first time, Kurt found himself sharing (or over-sharing, in his opinion) things he had always found so difficult to even bring to mind.

By the time they had made it to the Gershwin Theater, Kurt had told Blaine of his father's heart attack, of Brittany and that brief period in his life when he felt he needed to be straight to please his father. He had shared almost every milestone, every turning point of his young adult life but very pointedly excluded his unfortunate first kiss (because that still affected him grandly, and made him feel vulnerable, and really- that still _hurt_), all of which Blaine very understandingly and patiently listened to.

Blaine recognized the honor of being a person Kurt deemed valuable enough to share a part of his life to. Blaine recognized that very few people knew of these things, and he once again stood in awe of Kurt's strength. If Blaine had believed he had faced enough hurdles in high school to last him a lifetime, Kurt indubitably suffered more. If Blaine ever had to go through what Kurt did, his mother probably would have found him on a random Wednesday afternoon, hanging from that bar in the ceiling, dead and cold. But to Kurt, giving up was never an option, and so was hurting his father, and that left Blaine speechless.

"What about you, Blaine?" Kurt asked as they settled into their seats half an hour before show time. "I've talked way more than I have in my life today. It's your turn."

Blaine smiled. "You haven't told me the craziest thing you've done yet."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You're still not over that?"

Blaine shot Kurt a playful glare. "You made me tell you about that summer, and you left me hanging. That grudge is staying for at least another five years."

"Don't be a baby," Kurt said, waving his hand in the air.

"Well, don't be unfair," he countered, coupling his statement with a pout he knew worked often with other people.

Kurt stared at the pout before laughing uncontrollably, earning themselves glares from the people in front of them. Blaine tried to hush Kurt who was too busy tearing up in laughter, but he stopped himself from stopping Kurt, relishing in the harmonious sound of Kurt's happiness—a sound he knew people very rarely heard. Blaine smiled to himself. Kurt probably hadn't laughed that way in ages.

When he finally calmed down, he was red and wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "Oh god, Blaine, you should've seen yourself. Does that work for you a lot?" he asked, his voice still full of mirth. He didn't realize how carefree he felt in that moment.

"Usually gets some positive responses," Blaine answered. "But I must admit, yours is the most positive one yet."

Kurt chuckled. "Oh, Blaine."

"But you're deflecting," Blaine continued. "What's the craziest thing you've done?"

Smiling, Kurt replied. "The reason I haven't told you is because I haven't done anything crazy yet, or at least nothing I'm willing to share." Kurt grinned. "I'm as stiff as your white polo, Blaine. There's nothing crazy about me except my apparent distaste for anything that can lead to crazy."

"Well, we'll work on that," Blaine commented. They fell into comfortable silence after that, Kurt staring off into space as Blaine perused the Playbill until the show started.

When it ended, Kurt stood up, applauding the petite brunette in the chorus with much mirth as she took a bow, her eyes finding Kurt and her smile instantly growing. Blaine joined Kurt in the standing ovation until the curtain fell and Kurt wove them through the crowd and to the stage door.

"We'll wait for Rachel here," he said as he leaned on the wall. "These people are lining up for autographs," gesturing to the line forming.

Blaine nodded. "She was amazing."

Kurt raised his brow in amusement. "You haven't seen her in all her glory. This is a small part, but it's a stepping-stone. She's meant for far more than this."

Blaine looked at Kurt curiously, and realized how deeply he valued his friends. He was supportive, and believed in them and their capacity so very fiercely that it made his spine tingle at the thought of Kurt valuing him too. Maybe at first as a friend, but hopefully as something more in the future. He promised he'd never take that for granted.

"I'm sure she is," Blaine replied after a second.

And then as if on cue, the doors opened and some members of the chorus exited, Rachel included. She beamed when she spotted Kurt and faltered momentarily when she realized he wasn't alone. And as quick as it left her face, her smile returned, brighter if possible, as she hurried over to meet Kurt.

"Rachel, that was splendid yet again," Kurt said as he hugged the small girl tightly.

Rachel hugged him back. "I know," she joked, her voice muffled by her face buried in Kurt's chest. She pulled away and gestured at Blaine. "I see you brought a friend," she said, smiling almost frighteningly at Blaine.

Kurt nodded. "Blaine, this is Rachel, one of my oldest friends. Rachel, this is Blaine, a friend from work."

Blaine extended his hand. "Blaine Anderson," he said, smiling politely. "Your performance was impeccable."

Rachel squealed as she took Blaine's hand, shaking it. "Rachel Berry, future Broadway leading lady, and Kurt's best friend."

"It's nice to meet you, Rachel," Blaine said, ever dapper, to which Kurt just rolled his eyes.

"It's nice to meet you, too," she replied. "In all the months I've given Kurt two tickets to see the show, this is frankly the first time he's brought someone along. I always thought it was because he wasn't proud of me, but I'm now very pleasantly surprised that he brought along such a charming, handsome young fellow to the show. You're quite the—"

"Oh-kay, Rachel!" Kurt interrupted, not wanting to overwhelm Blaine with Rachel's incessant chatter. And also because he was slightly embarrassed by the things that left her mouth. "Let's try not to scare my friend off, okay?" he said as if he were talking to a young child.

Rachel eyed Kurt knowingly, but grinned nevertheless. "But in all truth, Blaine, it's so nice to meet you."

Blaine nodded. "Of course. It's nice to meet actors before they're very famous- make them friends and all. And with your talent, I'm pretty sure you're on the fast track to success."

Rachel beamed again and turned to Kurt. "Oh Kurt, wherever did you snag this one? He's a keeper."

Rolling his eyes, he replied. "I did not 'snag' him, Rachel," he said, air-quoting. "And you think anyone who strokes your ego is a keeper."

She seemed to think about it before nodding in agreement.

"Besides," Kurt continued, "Blaine is a friend. A new friend. One I would like to keep, thank you very much."

Even though Kurt made it abundantly clear that they were indeed only friends, there was a fluttering in Blaine's stomach at hearing Kurt say he wanted to "keep" him.

"Whatever you say," Rachel said, turning her attention back to Blaine. "Take good care of him okay?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Rachel grinned again, and then skillfully left the subject. "Well, a bunch of us are having a get together after this. You guys up for it?" she asked, her eyes darting between Kurt and Blaine.

Before Blaine could reply though, Kurt was already voicing their regrets. "We'd love to, but we have work tomorrow morning. Early. Unlike you."

She frowned, but nodded in understanding. "Well, if you change your mind, call me."

"We will," Kurt said, and then bid her goodbye as she sauntered off with the other cast members. Kurt pulled Blaine out of 50th street and to the subway, muttering "Trust me, you did not want to go to that party."

"Why not?" he asked, his amusement ringing in his tone.

"They throw the wildest, most disgusting parties ever. At the end of the night, there are freakin' tampons on the dance floor," he said in distaste.

Blaine shot Kurt another amused look, and then laughed. "Yeah, I think I'll live without seeing a bunch of bloody tampons on the floor."

"You will," Kurt replied shortly. "I've been scarred for life. The one time I ever agreed to join them, I was holding up a severely drunk Rachel laughing hysterically at her friend pulling one out for show."

Blaine made a disgusted noise, scrunching his nose up in distaste. "Yeap. I could definitely live without that mental image."

Kurt chuckled as they boarded the nearly deserted subway train, sitting down next to Blaine on the filthy seats. "Rachel is a handful, but she always means well, however twisted that may be."

They spent the ride talking about Rachel's mishaps, including sending Sunshine Corazon to a crack house back in high school. Kurt admitted to initially always being in the middle of some spar with her, but they were best friends at the end of the day. They were both divas, and if it weren't for Kurt opting to go into medicine, they probably would still be in the same cat and dog routine.

When they arrived at Kurt's stop, Kurt prepared to bid Blaine goodnight, but Blaine surprised him as he stood up too and exited along with him.

"Blaine?" he asked curiously. "Don't you live, like, 20 blocks from here?" This was, of course, information he had gotten from Blaine's file and unconsciously retained. Of course it was.

Blaine turned, smiling at him sheepishly. "I don't want tonight to end yet. I like spending time with you." He hastily thought of giving some plausible excuse like _oh, I need the exercise_, but decided against it at the last second.

"Blaine," he warned, narrowing his eyes as they reached the surface street.

"As a friend," Blaine remedied, flashing Kurt a smile. "Let me walk you to your apartment."

Kurt considered this, but sighed and let Blaine lead them to uptown 5th avenue. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. You know that."

Kurt shook his head. "No, I mean. Thank you," he said again. "For listening. For today. I had fun."

He couldn't remember the last time he let himself go like that. He probably never had, come to think of it. But Blaine was such a positive force on him, and he had yet to decide if he liked it completely.

"You're welcome," Blaine repeated softly, offering Kurt a thoughtful smile. "At least now you're not such a puzzle to me."

"Next time we do this, we're talking about you, Blaine. This isn't a one-sided friendship."

Blaine grinned at the idea of a next time, but he nodded. "Of course."

Kurt smiled at him before they continued walking in comfortable silence. When they reached Kurt's apartment, he turned to Blaine and offered his hand to shake. Friends shook hands, right?

Blaine eyed the hand and then chuckled, but took it and shook it firmly. "Goodnight, Kurt. Thank you for today."

He nodded. "Goodnight, Blaine. Get home safe."

Blaine winked. "You know I will," he answered, and then walked (no, _skipped_) the way home, whistling For Good as he went.

* * *

So there was a time in my life when all I ever tweeted about was Kurt and Blaine and Klaine that my cousin thought I was dating some guy named Klaine. It was weird. But man do I want to date them both. Haha.

Anyway. That's totally irrelevant. Thanks so much for reading, guys! Next chap soon! :)


	11. Chapter 8b

AN: So this is a relatively short chapter. It just shows a bit of development for Kurt and Blaine's friendship and sort of reflects a bit of canon Kurt and a bit of Blaine as I've been reading him in other people's stories. It's also two parts fluff and one part angst (well, mild, mild angst).

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing the past chapter. Like I've said before, this is my first story and English isn't my native language so I welcome all that you may have to say. That said, I hope you enjoy this next chapter. :)

-I still own nothing.

* * *

"When's your next day off?"

Kurt's pen nearly flew to the other end of the table in surprise, glaring up at Blaine for sneaking up on him. "Do you mind?" he whispered harshly, reaching for his pen again whilst gesturing to the work laid out before him.

It was a week of easy conversations since Kurt took Blaine to meet Rachel. Blaine still brought him coffee, and he kept him company through the late nights at the laboratory. To his surprise, Kurt found that he liked it. He liked to have someone to talk to lighten up the mood when he was studying one or the other thing.

Blaine grinned at him as he rounded the table to be in front of Kurt, seemingly unfazed by Kurt's displeasure. "When is your next day off?" he asked again.

Kurt glared at him for a moment longer before he sighed and let his eyes drop back to the file. "Technically it's on Thursday," he answered. "But I rarely take days off."

"Well, take it this week," Blaine smiled, sitting on a stool in front of Kurt. "I just have rounds until one, and after that we're hanging out."

"We are?" Kurt asked skeptically, both his brows raised.

He nodded. "We are. You promised me you'd help me shop for cardigans."

Pausing, Kurt licked his lips and frowned. "I suppose I did promise you that."

"And I'm holding you to that promise on Thursday. We'll hit Bloomingdale's."

"Blaine."

"Come on, Kurt," Blaine whined. "You don't seem like the kind of guy to pass up an opportunity to shop."

Kurt chuckled despite himself, leaning back on his seat. "Well, you're right about _that_."

Laughing, Blaine replied, "See? So say yes. It'll be fun."

With a begrudged sigh, Kurt nodded. "Fine. I'll meet you there at 2."

Blaine grinned at him brightly, his white teeth shining under the harsh fluorescent light. "Awesome," he replied. "See you then."

With that, he winked at Kurt and then left, puzzling Kurt to no end. But the week rolled by anyway, and before Kurt knew it, he was standing beside a mannequin display at Bloomingdale's, waiting for Blaine to waltz through the doors. He was prompt, as always, and Blaine was running late. He tried not to tap his foot impatiently.

They had gotten to know each other quite well. Blaine would coax him out for lunch, and sometimes Quinn would join them. Blaine told Kurt about the Sadie Hawkins dance, and the idea of trying to fill his father's shoes, and shared his idealistic short and long term goals. This was where Kurt learned to gage him, knew what a certain smile meant, or what was running through his head with a quick look at Blaine's honey eyes. Kurt, with all his perception, knew all of Blaine's gestures, and before he could stop it, it felt like he had known Blaine for all of his life. They had developed an easy friendship, with only the subtle hints of Blaine wanting more, but he was ever the gentleman and never pushed. Kurt appreciated that, and found himself falling in love with him just a little more everyday. But as usual, he was too afraid of the emotion to act on it concretely.

Blaine arrived before Kurt could dwell on it, and offered him an apologetic smile as he rushed over.

"Sorry," he breathed as he neared Kurt. "One of my patients was really nervous, so I had to sit with her through the whole session."

Kurt nodded in understanding, his features softening as he smiled in reassurance. "It's fine." Blaine was compassionate to a fault, and it was a trait he admired about him incredibly.

"Have you been waiting long?" he asked, still immensely apologetic.

He shrugged, waving him off. "I was here on the dot. But it doesn't matter," he said, smiling brightly this time. "Let's go shopping."

Blaine returned the smile gratefully as they walked together to the men's section.

"So I know you're only into The Gap," Kurt started as they walked, playful disdain seeping in his tone. "But a respectable man as yourself should dare not wear such atrocities."

Blaine chuckled. "They have pretty decent selections, Kurt," he answered. "It's kind of my one-stop shop. I know my size, and their stuff are okay, so all I need to do is go around the store once, grab the things I like, and pay. I don't even have to think."

Kurt scrunched his nose. "And therein lies the problem," he said as they hopped on the escalator. "If you know your size and need not make use of the fitting room, it means you shop too much at the store. I mean, I buy my socks at The Gap but that's basically the extent of it. Everything else is a travesty."

Blaine rolled his eyes in response. "I buy my socks at Walmart," he teased.

Kurt turned to him, appalled. His eyes were wide, disdain written heavily across his face as he scowled. "You do not."

"I do," Blaine answered playfully, enjoying Kurt's contempt.

"What blasphemy, Blaine Anderson!" he exclaimed in mock indignation.

Blaine laughed at that, taking great pleasure in teasing Kurt. Of course he didn't buy his socks at Walmart. He bought them at The Gap too, thank you very much, along with a bunch of other things, but still. "Yeah. They surprisingly have a lot of wear in them. I buy socks maybe like, once in two years now."

By that point, all Kurt could do was gape. He imagined socks with a ton of holes gracing Blaine's precious feet, and his precious Salvatore Ferragamo leather shoes, and cringed. Kurt wasn't always high maintenance, but he could appreciate nice things (things being apparel) and take care of them. He was only really particular with clothes, but with everything else, he was as simple as could be. But this? This was a _sin_. A sin Blaine needed to be absolved of.

Blaine laughed again. He hadn't bought his socks at Walmart since he transferred to Dalton, where there were standard issued black socks for all the students to wear. And being the law abider that he was, he complied graciously. It wasn't until he started medical school that he even realized he needed socks, preferring to show off his ankles in his blue boat shoes and capris all through college.

"Oh, Blaine. You are an insult to every seven-figure salary earner in this country. Walmart is not, and never will be, for anything more than pet food, and the occasional quick stop for a condom."

"I'll keep that in mind," Blaine grinned as they paused in the men's designer clothes section. "You're the expert, after all."

"Yes, I am," Kurt agreed cheekily, turning away to face the Marc Jacobs display, feeling his heart flutter with excitement. He surveyed the display, then turned back to Blaine. "I don't think you're a Marc Jacobs man," he said with scrutiny, trying to picture Blaine in any of the outlandish ensembles.

Blaine offered a wry smile. "Not really. I was thinking more like... I don't know. Department store brand? Generic? I'm hopeless at this Kurt," he said a little miserably. "I don't really seem like the McQueen type. I mean, I'm not high fashion _at all_."

Pursing his lips, he studied Blaine for a long moment then sighed. "Maybe we should ease you in," Kurt said thoughtfully. "We'll shop at a less abominable place than The Gap, and ease you into these designer clothes. Because I swear to God, if you start pairing a Michael Kors button down with a pair of slacks from Walmart or K-Mart of wherever the fuck you shop, I will murder you."

Blaine chuckled, holding his hands up in defeat. "The Gap, Kurt. And I think it's perfectly acceptable to pair an MK top with Gap slacks. But like I said, you're the expert."

"I'll teach you to care for your clothes first before I buy you anything more precious," Kurt said snottily. Because yes, _he_ was the expert.

"Of course you will."

Kurt gave him a sideways glance before pulling his phone out and Googling the nearest J. Crew. Distractedly, he continued, "I don't understand. You always look so presentable and comfortable in your crisp suit. Honestly, that was the first thing I noticed about you."

"Really?" Blaine asked in surprise. Usually people noticed all the gel in his hair.

Kurt nodded, eyes still transfixed on his phone as he replied absently. "Well-polished."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I'm assuming that was your first impression of me?"

Looking up, Kurt paused and considered Blaine's words before nodding slowly. "I suppose," he answered, neglecting to mention that that was one of many things that flew through his brain the first time he met Blaine. _Gorgeous _being one of them.

"Do you wanna know what _my _first impression of you was?" he asked carefully, turning his head sideways as he looked at Kurt.

Kurt raised a brow, not really sure. "The same as everyone else's?" he supplied. He knew what people thought of him. He wasn't deluding himself into thinking they were all positive, too. Why should Blaine be any different? Modesty aside, Kurt knew he was pretty well-known in the field, and that being popular meant he was being talked about. He was absolutely sure word had gotten 'round to Blaine, marring Blaine's idea of him somewhat.

"Which would be?" Blaine asked, genuinely wanting to know.

"An immensely talented cold-hearted bitch. A bitch, but still. Talented," Kurt replied, as if it didn't bother him. _As if._

But of course it bothered him. It was so easy to make assumptions about him based solely on the image he wanted to project, but people should know better than to believe what they see. Yes, he was smug about being called talented, but as previously established, Kurt was human too and he felt his eyes water a little whenever he heard whispers about his attitude. He would shrug them off eventually, but it didn't help the ache at the start.

Blaine frowned at this. "Not exactly."

Kurt memorized the address before he tucked his phone away to give Blaine his undivided attention. "So what then? It's usually just some variation of cold-hearted, self-centered bitch, which is pretty harsh but I've since been immune and it's gotten terribly old. Knowing you and how nice you are, it was probably a slightly toned-down version of it." Like, maybe, _platonic_, or _robotic_, or downright _inhuman_.

Blaine offered him a small, almost sad smile before shaking his head. "No."

It was almost physically painful to hear Kurt force himself to sound so resigned. He could see right through him, and saw that he being indignant despite how hurt he was over the comments. But what puzzled Blaine was why, if he disliked being labeled so wrongly, Kurt didn't make an effort to change himself, didn't bother to go out of his way to prove them wrong. It wouldn't be so difficult, honestly. A kind smile here, and kind word there—it was so _easy _to sway people's opinions and win them over sometimes. Kurt just didn't bother to change himself accordingly.

And why would he? Kurt is unique and so, so special. He didn't need to conform to anybody's expectations of him. Unlike Blaine, Kurt didn't have the innate need to be liked by everyone, to gain approval for everything.

"Then what?" Kurt asked, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice. He was also trying to relax, to not be so defensive considering the nature of their conversation. But he was guarded, and it was projecting well into his tone. He didn't know why, and it irritated him not knowing why, he cared so much about what Blaine thought of him. Nobody's opinion of him mattered. All of them were irrelevant and have been for so many years now. But now Blaine was here, reminding him of how much he had to alter the cycle of his daily life, and suddenly everything mattered.

Shrugging, Blaine seemed a little unsure, but barreled through nevertheless. He didn't know if it was a good idea to voice his thoughts, but they had progressed too much into the conversation and ventured too deep into the subject to back out now. "Lonely. I thought you were a lonely man."

Kurt wasn't expecting that, and it took all of two seconds of stunned silence before he snorted. That was the last thing he had expected Blaine to say, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"Well, that's the first time I've heard that," he answered as he started walking towards the exit, Blaine trailing behind him. "You're something special aren't you?" he said, shaking his head a little, trying to grasp Blaine's words.

Blaine shook his head, not being able to ascertain if Kurt was upset or not. "No, I mean it. I'm not really one to judge Kurt, but you seemed lonely to me." He struggled to explain himself, to phrase his thoughts carefully in an attempt to lure Kurt away from setting his defenses up torturously around him.

"Yeah, well," Kurt answered, frowning, "nobody has exactly taken the time to read past the facade, so I suppose I'll have to commend you."

"Kurt."

The way Blaine punctuated his name brought a lump to his throat. He shook his head again, pushing the doors open and hailing a taxi in one swift movement.

"I know you're trying not to, but you sounded just the least bit condescending," Kurt said honestly, still trying to figure what he felt about Blaine thinking he was lonely. Was it so wrong that Blaine saw right through him? He wasn't sure.

Blaine had the decency to look chastised, if not entirely mortified at seeming like he was patronizing Kurt all this time. That wasn't the point of the relationship. He didn't befriend Kurt because Kurt was lonely, and he sure as hell wasn't falling in love with him because of the same reason. "I'm sorry, that wasn't—"

"Blaine," Kurt interrupted pointedly, turning to him and sighing heavily. "_I know_."

Well. That didn't make Blaine feel better.

Still looking concerned, he followed suit and slid into the backseat of the taxi Kurt had hailed, not really listening to him as he prattled directions to the driver. There was a brief moment of silence in the cab before Blaine looked at Kurt.

"I didn't mean to imply I was better than you or whatever," he said, sounding small. Because he didn't. He didn't wish to give the impression that their whole relationship was founded so pathetically on Blaine patronizing Kurt because Kurt needed a friend. No. And he most certainly didn't mean to imply that he was better than Kurt because what? Because he was hopeful and optimistic and wanted to help people? He had his flaws, too, and he wasn't blind to them.

Kurt shrugged noncommittally, as if he had resigned himself to the idea . "I know. You just have a very interesting view of me, is all," he answered, keeping his eyes on the road and his face steady and blank and unrelenting.

Blaine swallowed. How was he going to explain himself? How was he going to get Kurt to see that they weren't friends because Blaine saw a charity case in Kurt? Kurt wasn't a charity case by any means. This wasn't some parasitic relationship where Blaine just kept on giving and Kurt kept on taking. Blaine was taking, too, even if it was unknown to Kurt. He was learning just as much as Kurt was.

"When you took me to the coffee place, and you told me about your bullies in high school, I said you were strong. But being strong doesn't always mean you're happy, does it?" Blaine asked slowly.

Sighing, Kurt turned to meet Blaine's tentative gaze. "No, it doesn't," he said resignedly. The truth was, he was lonely. He was strong, yes, but he was lonely. He was strong enough to endure the loneliness, but still. He was lonely.

Blaine nodded. "You're lonely Kurt. Not many people see that because not many people can read that sort of emotion on someone's face. But I could because I looked exactly like you did when I was high school. And on some days, now that I'm a doctor, too. But I didn't want to be friends with you just because you were lonely. You need to understand that."

Wordlessly, Kurt cocked his head to the side. He was still hesitant, and there was a suffocating air of tentative affection between the two of them. He honestly didn't want to believe that this was Blaine patronizing him the whole time. No. Blaine was too genuine for him to even consider the idea that he was being demeaned in any way.

When Kurt said nothing, Blaine continued. "I saw you, Kurt. In the same way you saw me that day," he said earnestly.

Okay. Wait. Hold on a second. Wow. _What_? Confused, Kurt's brow furrowed in question, and maybe slight bewilderment too. "What?"

Blaine shrugged, now arriving at the real reason he was barreling through Kurt's emotions and forcing himself on him. This was the first thing that drew him to Kurt. It certainly wasn't the last, but it was the most primary, fundamental thing that allowed him to realize the potential of falling in love with Kurt.

"You didn't see me as Thomas Anderson's son," Blaine explained. "You saw me for me, and I appreciated that. Nobody's ever seen me like that before."

Kurt frowned, not understanding why it meant so much to Blaine. "But that's because you and your father are two different people," Kurt spoke as if it were obvious. "You wanted to blaze your own trail, and that's something people _should _recognize. No one should confine you to a certain box—because you're so much more than that. You're so much more than someone else's son, and so much bigger than a box."

That was probably the nicest, most touching thing Kurt had ever told Blaine, and he couldn't help the slight tightening in his throat. This was why he loved Kurt, and why he was willing to wait for him regardless of the inconvenience. Kurt saw him, and understood him on top of the way Kurt was inexplicably beautiful all together. He offered him a small, grateful smile. Kurt may not understand why it was so important to him that he be seen for who he was, but Kurt's ability to lift the burden off his shoulders unknowingly astounded Blaine.

Kurt smiled back and squeezed Blaine's hand lightly. "I suppose we're both lonely people, Blaine," he said. But they were there for each other. And they could be the cure for each other's loneliness.

"I suppose we are," Blaine whispered, gazing intently into Kurt's eyes and never wanting to look away.

* * *

There are days when I just want to give med school up all together and write. Kurt and Blaine are inspiring. LOL. Anyway. Let me know what you guys think! Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 9a

AN: Hi! So. The next chapter is up. The motto is still _slow build up_. But we're getting there. In this chapter, we see Kurt loosening up in an entirely different way, and it's sort of pivotal for the story. We're getting to the hot issue at hand, and then everything will explode. Or not. I don't know. Hahaha. But anyway. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing the last chapter! It means a lot to me that people are reading this. So there. Thank you, thank you! You guys are awesome!

-I own nothing.

* * *

Blaine knew he had some effective powers of persuasion. He often used it to his advantage, paired most generously with his adorable pouts and puppy dog eyes. But even he knew he was pushing it when he tried convincing Kurt to go out for a drink with him a couple of weeks after their shopping trip. Kurt had eyed him skeptically, and Blaine recognized the way Kurt bit his tongue to prevent himself from snapping. Kurt was making good progress, and Blaine felt like dragging Kurt out for a drink would be entirely innocuous.

"Just for a drink, Kurt. To loosen you up or something," Blaine said as he leaned casually on the table.

Kurt raised a brow at him, attempting to look contemptuous. "I am loose enough, thank you very much."

Blaine smirked amusedly. "Really?"

Kurt scowled at him and ducked his head to return his attention to a file. "I'm not going out to some random club in the city for a drink, Dr. Anderson. If I wanted to let loose, I'd have downed a martini in the confines of my own apartment and invited my girl friends for a night of facials and a movie."

Blaine tilted his head. "And as fun as that sounds, that's also entirely too wholesome. Come on, it'll be fun. I'll introduce you to some of my friends from high school."

"Still doesn't sound very appealing, Blaine," Kurt said without looking up. Blaine could be adorably belligerent if he wanted to be, and Kurt just didn't want to deal with that right now.

"I'll buy you a new scarf," Blaine offered, his voice hopeful. God, he was _bribing _Kurt Fucking Hummel. He was desperate.

Kurt looked up and glared. "No," he answered petulantly. "Just. _No_." He emphasized his point with an exasperated shake of his head, willing Blaine to please just go away. He was sure a night out partying was going to end disastrously. He was so sure of it.

Blaine huffed in frustration. "You are no fun, Kurt Hummel," he said, imitating the voice of a petulant five year old. (Oh, excuse me, five _and a half_)

"Oh, I'm plenty fun, Blaine," he deadpanned. "But your idea of fun simply does not coincide with mine."

"Then allow me to introduce you to a whole different world of fun," he pleaded, pursing his lips just a little more.

Sighing, Kurt set his pen down to look at Blaine meaningfully. Honestly, this was just ridiculous. "I'm not as socially inept as you think I am. I've had drinks at a club in college, and honestly, I've outgrown it," he said, trying to convince Blaine that he didn't need a night out. It just didn't sound very appealing. He saw little enough of his bed as it was. He didn't need a begrudged night out to hamper yet another opportunity to be intimately acquainted with his thousand count Egyptian cotton sheets.

Blaine rolled his eyes at Kurt's haughtiness. "It's not some floozy club, Kurt. It's a little classier. Lots of professionals go there."

"Of course they do," Kurt replied, rolling his eyes. If Blaine wanted to go out, Blaine could go by himself. He didn't need to drag Kurt along for the ride. _Control_. Control control control.

"Come on. I'll buy you a couple of rounds of drinks, we'll dance to some house music, then go home. The dancing could be fun if socializing isn't your thing." It was a harmless prospect. Nothing had to happen. Kurt just needed to loosen up a bit. This was going to be a level up of sorts.

"I'm a terrible light weight, Blaine," Kurt answered, finding one million and one reasons not to go. When Kurt wanted something, he'd find a way to get it. When he didn't want something, he'd find every sort of reason to stay the hell away from it. It was all part of his grand scheme of being in control of everything in his life.

Blaine shrugged, as if the matter was nothing. "I'll make sure you get home safe." He could see right through Kurt, and knew Kurt was just looking for a reason not to go.

Pursing his lips and taking a long moment to frown and glare at the same time, Kurt sighed begrudged resignation. "You're not going to lay off my case 'til I agree, are you?"

Shaking his head, Blaine looked serious before he grinned exaggeratedly in triumph. "Nope." He knew he had won this.

Huffing, Kurt picked his pen up again. "Fine," he snapped. "I'll go to your stupid club. Now leave, I have to finish this."

Blaine laughed heartily and slapped Kurt's back. "Awesome," he exclaimed before his laughter echoed across the hall and away from Kurt's office. If Kurt wasn't so royally annoyed, he would've been amused by Blaine's behavior. But he so wasn't amused and so did not appreciate the persuasion. Damn Blaine Anderson. Damn him to hell and back.

And that was how Kurt found himself nursing a cosmopolitan in the middle of a crowded New York club, mildly cursing Blaine's existed in his head for coercing him into this place. Granted the crowd was as classy as Blaine described it (no college students, and brimming with young professionals), he didn't feel very comfortable. It'd been years since the last time he stepped foot in a place like it, and it irked him to see all those people consume so much alcohol. After his father's heart attack, he realized how big a contributing factor alcohol was to cardiac health, and he vowed never to turn into one of those people who needed a drink to get through an entire day.

The real reason behind Kurt's apprehension was because clubs meant alcohol and alcohol meant an inebriated Kurt. And an inebriated Kurt was never a good thing. For one, alcohol made him lose all semblance of self-control, as if his body was taking advantage of the situation, turning him mindless as fuck at the most minute amount of alcohol in his system. Losing control meant he was bound to do something egregiously stupid; often resulting in Kurt in an arguably compromising situation.

With Blaine's entrance into his life, Kurt believed he had loosened up enough to last him an entire lifetime. He didn't need the alcohol and the partying to add to his lack of self-control, and he most certainly didn't need to put himself in a compromising position. But Blaine had insisted he come, and then Blaine had insisted he order a drink, and now, here he was. If he weren't trying so hard for Blaine, he probably would have left.

Blaine had excused himself to pick his friends up from the entrance. Kurt held their seats at the bar, and mentally cursed Blaine Anderson. He wanted to go home—a thought that occurred to him exactly five seconds since arriving. But he sucked it up and let himself trust Blaine. Because Blaine meant well, and had an incredibly charming (albeit annoyingly convincing) _pout_. Besides, more than Kurt's slight urge to impress Blaine, Kurt was trying to convince himself that this was a good thing, that this could be good _for him_. He downed his drink in one go at that thought.

"Kurt!" Blaine called, his voice loud above the bass.

He spun around abruptly to see him approaching with two friends in tow. He almost fell from the chair at the sudden movement, but thankfully steadied himself enough to offer a weak smile as they neared. "Hey," feeling the familiar walls build themselves around his heart, guarding him closely even through the alcohol's haze.

Blaine grinned as they approached. "Kurt, these are my friends from Dalton, Wes and David," he said as he gestured to the men. "Guys, this is Kurt Hummel, our head researcher at the foundation."

"It's nice to meet you, Kurt," Wes said as he extended his hand and shook Kurt's firmly. Kurt reciprocated with a strained smile, noting how formal Wes seemed. Formal and polite—the very image of a Dalton man. And, well, not very different from Kurt in that front. It almost seemed like he was looking in a mirror.

"Blaine's told us a lot about you," David continued, also shaking Kurt's hand. "He wouldn't stop talking about you, actually." His grin was wide and toothy, his friendliness almost an echo of Blaine's personality.

Kurt raised a brow in question, casting Blaine a look. "Is that so?" he asked, feeling his ears heat up from a combination of his cosmopolitan, and the fact that Blaine was _talking about him_.

Blaine glared at his friends even as he blushed profusely. "If you must know, I speak very highly of you and your talent."

Smirking, Kurt nodded and brought his drink to his lips, realizing belatedly that all his glass contained was ice. "You flatter me, Dr. Anderson," he said, feeling the alcohol loosen his muscles.

"Well, I try," Blaine answered, flashing Kurt a charming smile. He hadn't had anything to drink. Not yet, at least. But even then, he carried his alcohol well.

Wes cleared his throat, earning the attention of all three people. "How about I buy us all a round of drinks?" he offered with a kind smile.

David grinned. "I'll grab us a proper table," he said, and scurried off to secure them a table close to the dance floor.

"What's your poison, Kurt?" Wes asked, eyeing Kurt's empty glass.

Kurt shrugged. "A Cosmo, but I'd rather your surprise me. I'm feeling adventurous tonight." Kurt without any sort of alcohol in his system never would have said that. And definitely, Kurt without any alcohol wouldn't feel adventurous in the slightest. So yeah, really, this was the poison talking.

Wes cocked his head and smirked, turning to Blaine. "Gin and tonic, Blaine?"

Blaine nodded wordlessly, slipping closer to Kurt. He could sense that Kurt wasn't quite himself anymore. Yeah, he was still aware, but he was losing his brain-mouth filter quickly. He realized then Kurt wasn't joking when he said he was lightweight.

"Okay, why don't you guys follow David, and I'll head over with our drinks?"

Blaine narrowed his eyes at Wes before he shrugged and pulled Kurt up. "Thanks, Wes."

"Don't mention it," he replied, and watched as Blaine led Kurt to the tables, smirking at the protective arm Blaine had around Kurt's waist.

Kurt stumbled a bit beside Blaine and almost yelled to be heard above the loud music. "You expect me to let loose with a bunch of men in starched polos who seem more uptight than I do?"

Blaine laughed heartily, the sound traveling above the music. "Trust me, they're the 'just add in water' kind of guys, except we add in something less wholesome."

"Wes seems formal." Well, stuck-up, but he wasn't going to say that. Maybe if he were drunker.

Blaine shrugged. "He used to be the head of the senior council, gavel and all," he said by way of explanation. "Must have drilled right through his head. But they're good guys, Kurt. Just give them a chance."

Kurt frowned, wobbling a little as they walked. "I never said I thought they weren't good men, just that I'm skeptical if they're the right people to get me to dance on that dance floor over there."

"Well, they're the right people to get you drunk enough," Blaine said with finality.

Kurt chuckled, and allowed Blaine to lead him to the table David had secured. Blaine's arm around Kurt's waist was a gesture meant to keep him close in the crowded club. Rationally, Kurt knew it was so they wouldn't lose each other in the sea of people, but he also felt the slightest bit of comfort. Blaine's arm was warm and secure behind him, almost protective, and he couldn't help the fluttering in his heart at the contact.

They had become such good friends over the weeks, and easily at that. Kurt was surprised at the ease with which he had let Blaine into his life, opening up the crevices in his heart that perhaps not even Quinn knew of. It was liberating, but also completely terrifying. He knew he was still broken; that despite the progress he had made with Blaine, he was still broken. He was still very much capable of hurting him, albeit unknowingly and not purposely. And he cared for Blaine enough (too much) to want to do that, to subject him to his self-destructive ways. He was protecting him, no matter how skewed that protection might be.

When they were seated, Wes promptly returned with their drinks, and thereupon ordered round after round after round of alcohol until Kurt felt like he was reliving his college glory days. He had a splitting headache, one he would have been aware of had he been more sober. But he was totally inebriated, and very uncoordinated, even as an equally drunk Blaine led him to the middle of the dance floor.

"I haven't danced in years, Blaine," Kurt slurred as Blaine dragged him, the upbeat tempo of the music dictating Blaine's attempt at dancing.

"So?" Blaine yelled, waving his hands up in the air in a poor excuse of a dance. "Live a little, Kurt! Let your hips move with music." He would later on regret those words.

Even in Kurt's drunken state of mind, he rolled his eyes and felt himself swaying involuntarily. He was much too intoxicated to register that his hips had started swaying in a very provocative way, gyrating incessantly to the music against someone's ass. Blaine was captured, his attention solely on the way Kurt's hips moved in _sex sex sex_.

It appeared, however, that Kurt's movements didn't only draw in Blaine's attention, but the attention of two other men on the dance floor. Two extremely good looking males who looked like they could be runway models, their hips gyrating in perfect sync with Kurt's as they moved to be closer to him.

Kurt didn't seem very fazed, and kept dancing and shaking even as one of the men started sliding his hands down Kurt's thighs. Kurt was drunk, and therefore unaccountable for his actions. He was probably unaware, or just acutely aware (if at all) of the way his conservative walls had fallen apart in exchange of sexy dancing with equally sexy men.

Blaine watched the scene unfold before his eyes. He was drunk too, and his tongue felt like lead as he watched. He kept dancing, of course, and was barely aware of his own moves beside Wes and David. It was like being on the outside looking in, like his head telling him to do something but was ultimately too fuzzy to take any action. So he swallowed the growing jealousy, his clouded mind rationalizing that a) Kurt was drunk and probably unaware of his actions, and b) Kurt was not his boyfriend and he had no right to prevent him from dancing with whomever the hell he wanted to dance with.

So he kept dancing, turning slightly away from Kurt so he could dance with some random girl shaking her hips in front of him. The music thundered in his ears, the sweat dripping relentlessly from his brow as the alcohol buzzed through his bloodstream. David and Wes were equally drunk, and he only briefly noted how irresponsible they all were for getting wasted without a designated driver. But he danced anyway and pushed away the image of Kurt dancing with another man (no, scratch that—_two _men) to the very back of his head.

It wasn't until he turned around to avoid the girl's ass from rubbing against his crotch that he noticed Kurt kissing one of the men intensely, his lithe fingers intertwined behind the model's neck, the model's sure hands steady on Kurt's hips. They weren't dancing anymore. They were making out—complete with tongue and teeth and grinding and obscene moans Blaine was sure he would've heard if it weren't for the loud music still drumming in his ears. There was cold jealousy settling in the pit of his stomach, and without thought, he surged forward and yanked Kurt away from the man forcefully.

Kurt yelped in surprised, his eyes unfocused as he tried to comprehend the situation and clear his head.

"What the hell?"

"I think you've let loose enough for one night," Blaine said hurriedly through gritted teeth, ignoring the man's protest and pulling Kurt hastily out of the dance floor, out of the club, and to the street.

Blaine was sobering up, and so was Kurt. And sober Kurt was angry. Angry as _hell_.

"Blaine what the fuck?"

"I said loosen up, not fucking make out with some man who probably has the Epstein Barr Virus, or heaven forbid, is HIV positive!" Blaine retorted. No, more like yelled. "This is New York, Kurt—there are far more HIV positive men around here than in fucking Lima, Ohio, and far too many men who will take advantage of you." He knew he was skirting around the point. EBV and HIV or any other STD were really the least of his concerns right now, but he was going to play the concerned medical professional card because fuck it, he needed some ground to stand on, something to work with.

"I'm not stupid! I'm not naive or fucking _provincial_," Kurt yelled back, his irritation seeping through every syllable. "And I was having a perfectly wonderful time, thank you very much. EBV is completely curable, and I wasn't about to fuck the guy senseless— at least not without protection. I don't need a chaperone, Blaine." He completely ignored how totally unrealistic it was that Blaine was bringing up _health concerns _at a time like this. A rattling of various STDs he could was not what he needed right now.

"Kur—"

"I thought the entire point of this thing was for me to live a little? Did you expect to draw a line and limit how far I get to live? After all that alcohol your fucking friend ordered, you can't exactly blame me if I wanted to be a horny moron for once in my goddamn life!" His head was still fuzzy, and it was pounding, freaking pounding, but somewhere through the haze he was aware of the words Blaine was throwing at him—the accusations and the condescension Blaine didn't need to articulate to convey.

Blaine let out an exasperated sigh, ignoring the searing pain in his head both from the alcohol and the argument. "Yes but—"

"I don't need you to look after me, Blaine. You're not my nanny, or my mother, or some fucking bodyguard. I can take care of myself."

"I know that Kurt, geez!" Blaine snapped. "I know you can take care of yourself, trust me, you've made that _abundantly clear_. But you're drunk and I don't know how drunk you are, or how you are when you're hungover. And goddamit, am I not allowed to care about you? Am I not allowed to look out for you?" He was frustrated, and it was reflected in the way he punctuated his sentences. If Blaine was masking his jealousy with concern, he found no need to say. Right now, the point he was trying to drive at was that he was worried about Kurt, and yes, he freaking cared.

Kurt breathed in deeply, trying to sober himself down more to prevent from lashing out. Even in his drunken state, he knew he didn't want to say something he'd regret. He was always a man who measured everything: his words, his emotions, his actions. It wasn't going to stop now that he'd consumed a sufficient amount of alcohol.

Good lord, he knew going out was a terrible idea.

Blaine sighed again and pressed the heels of his palms on his eyes. He wouldn't say he was reacting this way because he was jealous. No. He would play the concerned friend part until the very end and say he was worried. Because he was. He was worried. It wasn't entirely a lie. But he was worried for a different reason, and a more magnanimous part of it was because he was insanely jealous.

"I appreciate your concern, Blaine," Kurt said, his voice clipped as he struggled to regain his composure. "But what you did was just rude." Totally inappropriate. Totally uncalled for. And a total violation of Kurt's protective nature on his self-control and independence.

Blaine sighed again. "I'm sorry," he replied, shaking his head in frustration. "I was just... Worried," sounding repetitive as the word _worried _bounced in his head again, already feeling like a half truth.

Kurt's expression softened at that, and he stepped forward to be just a little closer to Blaine. This was why he couldn't be in a relationship with Blaine. Blaine cared too much, and Kurt would break him. Because Kurt could be reckless, even with the things he valued fiercely. And Blaine deserved so much more. He didn't notice that Blaine was slightly uncomfortable. All he noticed was how genuine Blaine seemed to be, and that made his heart ache.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said. "But you don't have to worry, Blaine," he said, trying to be reassuring even if mostly, he was just tired.

But of course he had to worry, Blaine thought. There were so many things to worry about. Because pushing Kurt to let loose could very well be a double-edged sword. He could be pushing Kurt to meet someone else, to get to know other people, other _men _and unknowingly fall for tall, muscled models who liked to dance dirty in the middle of a New York club.

Blaine met Kurt's tentative gaze before he very hesitantly opened his arms out, inviting Kurt for an embrace, which was as much a peace offering to Kurt as it was a reassuring gesture of comfort for him. Kurt looked at the arms calculatingly, his back stiff, rigid with discomfort. But Blaine's eyes were hopeful, if not just a little sad and guilty, and Kurt felt his heart tug with ache at the sight. Taking the necessary steps to close the distance between them, he allowed Blaine to engulf him in the most comforting embrace he'd had since his father's.

Blaine's arms were strong and protecting, making Kurt feel safe and at sync with the rest of the world. It was in that moment that Kurt realized, through all the alcohol and the yelling and the headache and the flurry of emotions, that Blaine's arms were where he would always be secure. Blaine's arms, both literally and figuratively, almost felt like his little nook in the vast universe, and Kurt would not compromise that by being his lover.

Even if his heart ached for it, he wouldn't. It was so much more important for him to have Blaine as his friend, than to hurt him and lose him because he was his lover.

* * *

At the end of every chapter, Kurt always comes to the same conclusion: he can't be with Blaine. So now my poor Blaine needs a hug. Like the hug he gave Kurt. Warm and fuzzy. Haha.

Anyway. Thanks for reading, guys! The tipping point is coming soon!


	13. Chapter 9b

AN: Um. So. Hi. Suddenly I'm all shy because this really awesome person suddenly became my fic fairy godmother and I'm so overwhelmed. Hello, **Starsleeper**. (I'm a mess of a flailing fangirl right now)

So, yeah. Thanks for reading and reviewing the last chapter. After this chapter, it'll be maybe like five more and then it's adios to this fic. Well, at least I'm trying to keep it under 5. This chapter is mostly how Kurt and Blaine's friendship is mended, so yeah. The theme is still slow build-up, but the tipping point is so, so close.

Thanks again for reading!

* * *

Autoimmune diseases like lupus or scleroderma work such that your body attacks itself. There is failure of self-recognition, and your fighter cells mistake your other healthy cells as enemies. Your body eventually degrades on its own—self-destructive and unstoppable, slow or fast, but ultimately devastating.

Maybe in the pathological sense, Kurt Hummel was as healthy and fit as the next man. But he was self-destructive in a way the allowed him to believe he had an autoimmune disease, one that was eating away at his heart and his ability to find some sort of emotional balance.

How he stumbled home that night at the club, Kurt wasn't sure. But he spent his entire weekend nursing a god-awful hangover with bottle after bottle of water, and the usually untouched aspirin from behind his bathroom mirror. His pounding headache only subsided by Sunday afternoon, enough to give him time to run to the grocery to restock his fridge, and prepare a long, relaxing bath for himself.

The details of Friday night were hazy. He could only very vaguely remember the man he made out with on the dance floor, or the events that led him to gyrate his hips embarrassingly. He flushed at the vague memory, but flushed in shame even more at the most vivid memory of the night: the argument with Blaine and the subsequent embrace that made him feel like everything was right in the world— like the cure to his own autoimmune disease.

No matter how drunk he was, he would remember Blaine's warmth encompassing him, his lips moving by his neck, his breath as he mumbled an apology for being rude. He would remember the shiver that ran up his spine, and the way his own arms circled Blaine's waist, holding him closer as he buried his nose in Blaine's shoulder. He would remember Blaine's scent: sweat and aftershave and cologne and _man_, and the suppressed jolt of arousal that almost went straight to his cock incongruous with the tender moment.

These were things he wanted to forget and wanted to drown in at the same time. He wanted to just exist in limbo, in this weekend, so he wouldn't have to face the world, face his emotions come Monday. Whatever it was he felt for Blaine was confusing him even more than it ever had. The pull was stronger now, and he was gravitating towards Blaine in the most unimaginable ways that sometimes he had to verbally scold himself, and tell himself to just _stop_, fucking stop.

For as much as he wanted Blaine, he was sure he meant trouble for him. And Blaine didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve Kurt's mess, or his inability to commit his heart in the way he was sure Blaine would. Blaine deserved so much better than Kurt's baggage, but he was too much of a coward to put words into those thoughts and tell Blaine exactly how he felt—

Which was why he holed himself up in his office on Monday, coming in to work extra early and ostracizing himself from the world. He didn't go out for lunch, and carefully timed his bathroom breaks to avoid run-ins with Blaine. Quinn had graciously allowed him his space, and said she would try to keep Blaine away for a bit. He was acting the entire opposite of himself. He didn't used to go out of his way for anybody, and acted with severe confidence and surety that he was a force to be reckoned with. But now, along with every other way Blaine had changed him, he was avoiding people and throwing himself into work far more than necessary to survive the day.

He wasn't sure why he was distancing himself from Blaine, or what good that would do for the situation. All he knew was that he couldn't face him, not yet, not without betraying his emotions. But honestly, he could only hole himself up for so long and before he knew it, it was 4pm, and there was a tentative knock on his office door, just as in the past days. He knew in an instant who it was.

His back stiffened as he closed his eyes and suppressed an audible groan, mentally berating himself for not leaving work earlier than everybody else. But he reminded himself that he was Dr. Kurt Hummel, and that he had learned to attack every situation head on at such an early age that it was hardly acceptable to back out of those principles now—at least not for something (or someone) as harmless as a run-in with Blaine Anderson.

With a sigh, he plastered a congenial smile and beckoned whoever was behind the door to come in. And as Kurt had expected, it was Blaine, once again holding a cup of coffee and wearing an unsure smile.

"Dr. Anderson," Kurt greeted evenly, meeting Blaine's uncertain gaze.

Blaine's smile widened just a little, and he motioned to the cup of coffee in his hand. "Can I come in?"

Kurt bit his lip before shrugging and gesturing to the seat by his desk. "Go ahead."

Stepping in and shutting the door, Blaine set the cup of coffee in front of Kurt and sat down, the motions familiar as they'd done this for weeks on end, but they were both extremely tentative.

"I didn't see you all day today," Blaine started slowly. "I wasn't sure you'd come to work at all."

Kurt shrugged noncommittally and picked his pen up. "Yeah, I needed to catch up on some paperwork."

Blaine stared at Kurt, catching the slight coldness in his tone, and the tension between them. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Did you have a hangover this weekend?"

Clicking his pen, Kurt nodded, a frown on his face. "Practically the whole weekend. I would imagine you did too?"

Blaine nodded, biting his lip and studying Kurt. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, the question weighing on his mind since early that day, when he didn't see Kurt with Quinn at lunch.

Furrowing his brow, Kurt tried to act nonchalant and cast Blaine a look. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seem a little... Off today," Blaine answered quietly. "Did something happen?" In the back of his mind, he knew. He knew why Kurt was acting the way he was now. It was perfectly clear that their night out had affected him, and Blaine wasn't sure how to broach the topic without sounding full of himself. He knew he had an effect on Kurt, that he influenced much of Kurt's demeanor nowadays, but that wasn't to say he was confident and cocky in the new development. Everything was still tentative, like walking on egg shells all the time.

But Kurt wanted to scream. Yes something happened. _You_happened. But he couldn't say that, couldn't even bring himself to put words into it. So instead, Kurt sighed in resignation, put his pen down and fixed Blaine an earnest look.

"No, nothing happened," Kurt answered, his voice a little hoarse as the lie caught in his throat somewhat. "I'm just... Tired," he settled as he eyed the cup of coffee and toyed with the lid.

Blaine followed the movement of Kurt's fingers and frowned. "You haven't, you know...Been avoiding me or anything?"

Kurt's head whipped in Blaine's direction, and he hurried to reassure him. "No, of course not! Why would I do that?" he asked, wishing his voice didn't sound pitchy, and that at the very least he sounded assuring and confident. God, he didn't need Blaine thinking he was avoiding him. He didn't need to add to the drama of it all. As it was, Kurt just needed the space. He could do without worrying over Blaine's feelings for just a second.

Blaine shrugged, sighing. "I don't know. I mean... I don't know how much you remember of Friday night."

And there it was, the topic Kurt wanted to avoid all together. Because even if he didn't remember the kissing and the grinding, and the sweat and the music, he very distinctly remembered Blaine. Everything about Friday night was Blaine, and he wasn't sure how exactly to deal with that.

Putting on a confident facade, and trying very hard not to retreat to his cold, sarcastic (defensive) self, Kurt smiled. "I assure you, Blaine. I remember everything with surprising clarity, and there's nothing to feel bad for—both for you and I."

"I... Really?" Blaine asked, slightly incredulous as he straightened his back.

Kurt nodded. It was true, anyway. Blaine had nothing to feel bad for. Anything Kurt felt about Friday night was his own fault entirely, and not Blaine's. "You pulled me out of a potentially sticky situation, we yelled at each other outside the club, made up, and you took me home. As simple as that."

Blaine looked a little unconvinced. No harm, no foul? Really? "I know how much you value your independence, so I wasn't sure how you'd take it when I pulled you off that guy sucking your face off." He didn't mean to sound so crass, and the face sucking was obviously completely mutual, but that was how it came out, the words tumbling out of his tongue in rapid succession. "And, you know... I know you're not physically affectionate, or any sort of affectionate for that matter but we—"

"I get it, Blaine," Kurt said, cutting him off impatiently. "And all is well. Let's just... Drop it, please? I get queasy at the thought of that night and the hangover I needed to nurse the entire weekend."

Blaine promptly clamped his mouth, looking like a chastised child, and nodded mutely. He wasn't convinced. Not by a long shot. He was sure not everything was entirely all right with Kurt. But he would honor his wishes, if only for the simple fact that Kurt asked him to.

"Thank you," Kurt replied, satisfied and immensely relieved. "And thank you for the coffee," he added as an afterthought.

Blaine nodded again. "You're welcome," he answered quietly, watching as Kurt offered him another smile and turned back to his file.

Kurt hummed, feeling his nerves subside, better concentrating on the paperwork at hand, studying the reports on their clinical trial. There was still some lingering unease, but it had dwindled down enough for him to ignore, to step on and shove at the very back of his head.

Blaine watched Kurt work, and opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again. He did that a couple more times before he finally sighed, earning himself a curious glance from Kurt.

"I... Made lasagna last night," Blaine said, trying not to trip over his words. He almost sounded like he did when he was first trying to get to know Kurt, complete with the nerves and apprehension.

Raising a brow, Kurt set the pen down again and leaned back on his office chair. He didn't say anything, only watched Blaine in quiet amusement, waiting for Blaine to keep going.

"I made a lot," he continued with a hint of a self-deprecating smile.

Kurt smirked, keeping his brow raised. "That almost sounds like an invitation, Dr. Anderson," he said, not really sure where this... _flirtation_was coming from. One minute he was completely avoiding the man, and the next he was finding fuel for arguably inappropriate flirting. He was hot and cold and goddamnit, curse Katy Perry for putting his emotions into words. He was confusing himself now, and it kind of sucked.

Blaine flashed him a crooked grin. "Yeah, I guess so," he said on a laugh.

Chuckling, Kurt pulled himself up from his seat and took his pen again. "Well, then."

"Help me finish all that lasagna? I promise I'm a decent cook," giving Kurt a hopeful look.

Kurt smirked. "I grew up watching Martha Stewart on TV, Blaine," he warned playfully.

Blaine grinned widely. "What a coincidence," he replied smugly.

Laughing, Kurt shook his head and brought the file closer to him. "Okay, fine. Just let me finish this report and the next."

"Okay," Blaine smiled, his eyes never leaving Kurt as the man furrowed his brow and read the files intently, pouting once in a while in thought and all together looking adorable.

Kurt kept his eyes on the file and scribbled his comments even as he spoke. "Did you get home okay?"

Brows raised, Blaine thought of the answer to the question before nodding. "Yeah. Stumbled home half sober."

"What about Wes and David?"

"Probably woke up in an unknown apartment after a one night stand," he said. "I warned you they're the just add in alcohol types."

Kurt chuckled. "I'll give them that."

"Looks are deceiving, Dr. Hummel. I never pegged you as the type to judge."

Narrowing his eyes, he answered, "I don't judge. At least I try not to. That was a first impression."

"Of course," Blaine teased, a smirk on his lips.

When Kurt finished with the last report, he wordlessly cleared his desk and then allowed Blaine to lead him to his apartment. Blaine lived about twenty blocks away from Kurt, in a good part of the Upper East Side, in an apartment that was spacious and sleek—very Blaine Anderson.

Kurt surveyed the foyer as Blaine took his coat, taking in the clean lines and the masculinity. It was a little ironic. Of the two of them, Kurt was more uptight and neat and _technical_, which was why it was easy to expect his apartment to be black and white and far from chic—cold, even. But Blaine's living space, although giving off a sense of "Blaine Anderson", came off a little colder than Kurt's. Kurt's was well-decorated and homey, while Blaine's was just... Dull. The design was modern and beautiful, yes, but it lacked warmth.

"Are you done judging my living room?" Blaine teased, nudging Kurt's shoulder playfully. Kurt was surveying the space wordlessly, and Blaine was starting to worry.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yes, as a matter of fact. I'm done judging," he replied as he took off his coat.

"And?" he asked, casting Kurt an expectant look.

"I much prefer to keep my opinions to myself, thank you," he said haughtily, neatly folding his coat as he turned away from Blaine.

Blaine raised a doubtful brow. "No sarcastic, witty, sardonic comment to be thrown my way?"

"Well, your lack of decor is entirely your prerogative, Dr. Anderson. Anything I may have to say about your place is entirely irrelevant."

Blaine chuckled at Kurt's sarcasm, leading him with a hand on the small of his back to the kitchen lined extravagantly with modern equipment. "But you do want to say something."

Kurt shrugged, setting the coat on the counter. "Unless you'll give me free reign to redecorate, then I'll keep my thoughts to myself," he said honestly, but flashed Blaine a cheeky smile.

"Hoho-okay," Blaine laughed, pre-heating the oven and pulling the lasagna out of the fridge as he did. "But you're itching to tell me, am I right?" he asked knowingly.

Kurt huffed in annoyance, watching as Blaine pushed the lasagna into the oven. "Fine. If you must know, I think it's very stylish. Classy."

"But?"

He didn't hesitate. "But un-lived-in," he deadpanned.

Blaine raised a skeptical brow at him. "Really?" he asked, incredulous. Well. Kurt was probably right, but he never thought his apartment looked anything less than inviting. At least, the thought never occurred to him.

Shrugging while watching Blaine move to gather two wine glasses, Kurt replied, "I'm rarely home but my apartment is really homey and really warm. But yours is just..."

"Cold?" Blaine suggested with a grin as he poured wine into each glass and offering one to Kurt. He wasn't sure about Kurt's description of his apartment, but he was pretty sure Kurt was exaggerating.

"Your words, not mine," he said as he took a sip of the Pinot.

Blaine chuckled and watched Kurt for a moment before he pulled out two plates from the cupboard, dropping the subject entirely.

With a sigh, Kurt watched Blaine prepare, swirling the wine in his glass absently. Small talk came easy between the two of them now that Kurt had warmed up. It was almost as if he knew Blaine from high school, because the only people he behaved with in the same manner were his friends from McKinley. It was a welcome change to be so open to someone who didn't know everything about young life, who didn't watch him grow up tormented by bullies constantly.

"Anyway," Kurt breathed as he leaned against the counter. "Did I ever tell you about my friend Mercedes?"

Blaine cast Kurt a sidelong glance in contemplation before nodding his head. "Yeah, your best friend from high school?"

"One of, yes," Kurt replied. "She's going to be in town next weekend, so I'm taking her around. She hasn't been back here since the show choir Nationals our junior year."

"Where are you taking her?" he asked.

"The usual? Empire State, Circle Line, the Met maybe? But I'm definitely taking her to see Rachel on Broadway. We'll probably make a night of it with Quinn."

Blaine nodded as he took a sip of his wine. "That sounds like fun."

"It does," Kurt agreed. "I'd actually like for you to meet her."

Raising a brow in question, Blaine offered a dry smile. "Oh?"

"Yep. Have dinner with us sometime. She's staying at my apartment, so I can probably return this kindness by whipping up a good dinner at my place," he said, gesturing vaguely towards the direction of the oven. The lasagna was starting to smell amazing, filling the air with a cheesy aroma Kurt would now always come to associate with Blaine's kitchen.

"I'd love to have dinner with you and Mercedes. If she's anywhere near as interesting as you, I'm sure the dinner will be my pleasure," he replied, ever the people-pleaser.

Without warning, Kurt let out wry laugh. "You're far too charming for your own good, Blaine."

Blaine grinned in response. "Well, I try." He didn't say that he thrived on people's approval because that went without saying.

Kurt only answered with a wide grin of his own, letting Blaine pull the lasagna out of the oven and plating them a serving each. With practiced ease, Blaine carried both plates on one arm and fetched the bottle of wine before he gestured for Kurt to follow him to the dining table. Kurt raised an amused brow at him but followed him anyway, repressing the urge to gape.

"Quite the talent you got there," Kurt commented as Blaine set the plates down. He eyed the way Blaine expertly set the table. Did Dalton teach its students _everything_? No wonder the prep school was expensive.

Pulling out the necessary utensils, Blaine shrugged. "I worked at an Italian restaurant my senior year in high school," he explained. "I waited tables to save up for a new car."

Kurt nodded, impressed. Oh. Well. There were more things he needed to discover about Blaine, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing exactly that. "Were you able to save enough?"

"I saved as much as I could, and my dad covered the rest. I got myself a '59 Chevy and rebuilt it the summer before college," he answered proudly. Being able to save up for a big ticket item like was a point of pride, and he still felt a surge of delight in his chest whenever he thought of that achievement.

"Wow. That's... Actually really impressive," Kurt said, noting how much Blaine took pride in one of the biggest achievements of his young life.

Blaine grinned, taking a seat in front of Kurt and pouring them each a wine refill. "Yeah. I don't own a car around here, obviously," he said. "It's impractical. But the Chevy's still in my mom's garage in Ohio. I use it every time I go home."

Kurt smiled. "My dad owns a garage, and I've been working there after school since I was eight so I know my way around cars. But that's only because I've had a lot of practice. You, on the other hand—you rebuilt an old car by yourself. That's quite an achievement."

"It's amazing what a person can accomplish when he puts his mind to it."

Kurt nodded in agreement. "You're really something, Dr. Anderson."

Blaine stared at Kurt, a spark suddenly filling the room as Kurt looked at him with a soft smile. "As are you, Dr. Hummel," he answered quietly, unable to keep the awe out of his voice.

If Kurt noticed that Blaine's ears were burning, he didn't say anything. Instead, he contented himself with a wide grin before he picked his fork up, ready to sample Blaine's creation.

Clearing his throat as if to clear the air, Blaine followed suit and picked his fork up but didn't dig into his lasagna. He carefully watched from underneath his eyelashes as Kurt cut the pasta and loaded it on his fork, his gaze expectant as Kurt took a bite.

He watched Kurt's expression as he chewed it slowly, waiting for any indication of Kurt's thoughts. Lasagna was another point of pride. Well, in all fairness, he had supernumerary points of pride, but he only found the need to speak of a few important ones. Like the lasagna. Like the car. Like melting Kurt Hummel's cold heart.

Without warning, Kurt closed his eyes and moaned obscenely, savoring the flavor that filled his senses as he chewed on Blaine's creation. Blaine's eyes widened at the sound so vulgar coming from Kurt, trying very hard not think about how those sounds were most likely what Kurt sounded in bed. He settled for an endeared smile if only to counteract the boner he was sure he was going to get.

"Orgasmic," Kurt moaned again as he opened his eyes after swallowing, grinning widely at Blaine in satisfaction. Fuck that. The lasagna was excellent. And if it weren't so against his personality, or if it weren't deemed so inappropriate to do so in front of a man he genuinely liked, he would have pulled a Meg Ryan from Harry Met Sally right there and then.

Blaine chuckled again, shaking his head leaning back on his chair with his fork piercing some of the pasta. "I take that you like it?" he asked, elated.

"Are you kidding me? I said your lasagna was _orgasmic_. I've yet to meet a man who thinks an orgasm is anything but good."

At this, Blaine giggled—actually fucking giggled, and took a bite of his lasagna happily, feeling his toes curl and his fingers tingle in mirth. Kurt's approval was most important.

"I think the year you spent waiting tables at that restaurant did you well. You're an excellent cook, I must concede," Kurt smiled, taking another bite of the lasagna with gusto.

"Thank you," Blaine preened. "I'd like to think I picked up a few things."

"Make me an orgasmic cheesecake and I think I might marry you," Kurt said as he chewed, pointing to Blaine with his fork.

"Oh, I don't know about cheesecake but I make a mean tiramisu. Will you marry then?" he teased, ignoring the way his heart leapt at the suggestion.

Kurt turned his head cheekily. "Maybe."

Blaine laughed, enjoying their light banter and watching Kurt take another bite. The feeling was different, seeing Kurt in his living space. Under the gentle cast from the ceiling light, Kurt looked almost ethereal with his porcelain skin, and he was beautiful. Seeing Kurt there, he allowed his mind to imagine a future this way, catching dinner with Kurt so effortlessly and routinely. It wasn't far fetched, he knew. I mean, yes, they were a far cry from a couple now. But it wasn't entirely implausible.

"Anyway," Kurt continued in between bites, "Mercedes."

"What about her?" he asked as he swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin, taking Kurt's change of topic in stride.

"She's turned into quite a party girl since she moved to LA," Kurt explained. "I don't think I can keep up. As it is, my alcohol tolerance has dwindled significantly since college. But whatever. I'll probably end up taking her out all three nights she's here."

Blaine let out a low whistle. "Wow. That's pretty intense."

"A bit too much?" Kurt asked unsurely.

Blaine shrugged. "For me, it is. But I don't know about Mercedes so I can't really say."

Kurt nodded in contemplation. "Well, she's only in town for a couple of nights, so maybe I can keep up."

With a tight smile that looked more like a grimace, Blaine replied, trying not to conjure the memories of Friday night so vividly in his head. "Considering what happened last Friday? You might end up doing more than making out with a stranger."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt leaned forward on the table and looked at Blaine squarely. "Blaine, I was barely even aware I was making out with someone. If I were, I probably wouldn't have. That said, I don't think you have to worry about me doing anything inappropriate." He coupled this line with a reassuring grin before reaching across the table and squeezing Blaine's hand. For in spite of Blaine's awkwardness, Kurt knew Blaine was only looking out for him, and the idea that Kurt was gallivanting with some stranger unprotected and unaware left him uncomfortable.

Also, Kurt wouldn't deny it. Blaine worrying made him feel good—made him feel human and genuine. But that wasn't to say he enjoyed seeing Blaine worry. He knew Blaine's concerns included worry over being replaced—something Kurt didn't even entertain.

Blaine returned the smile warmly, feeling a slow tingle on his hand at the contact with Kurt's. "Good to hear."

Maybe it was silly, but Blaine was hoping Kurt would save himself, and his readiness, for him. He was hoping that when Kurt was ready and willing, he would choose to give the ultimate form of loss of self-control to him. Blaine was waiting, and he was worthy. And okay, maybe the idea of someone else's hands on Kurt was unsettling because he was jealous, but that was something he had to squash down because he had no hold on Kurt. Kurt wasn't his boyfriend. Not by a mile. But he would him to be, so fucking bad.

* * *

So. The fandom kind of rocks. I mean, I've known that for a while now, considering the amazing work Klainers have done to get the box scene. But I'm experiencing all the awesomeness first hand. It's awesome.

Also: hello to **sparklyshimmer2010** and **msdarque**. You guys are all sorts of awesome.

Thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter 10

AN: So. I was supposed to upload this earlier in the day, but the site's been screwing with me and kept sending me error messages. In the end, I was too excited to get the chapter up that I ended up editing one of the previous ones on the doc manager thing. Desperate, I know. But if it gets the chapter up, I don't care. Haha.

Anyway. Good god, thank you guys for reading and reviewing the last chapter. I'm a little overwhelmed. As the story progresses, the more people read it so I guess I'm doing something right with the plot? I don't know. But yeah, thank you, guys! You all kind of rock.

Without further delay, I give you... Mercedes Jones.

- I own nothing.

* * *

"White boy, you better tap all these hot gay asses right now," Mercedes gushed as they wove their way through the crowded bar.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I don't know where you get the impression that all these men are gay."

"Oh please. LA and New York may be on opposite sides of the country, but a gay man is a gay man wherever you place him," she said as she took a long sip of her rum coke, still eyeing all the men around them hungrily.

"Pray tell, do you know this based on experience?"

Mercedes turned her head and grinned at him wordlessly. Yes, as a matter of fact. She had lived quite a life in California, a life she could only have dreamt of in high school. And man, she loved every minute of it.

It still baffled Kurt to some degree that he remained best friends with a woman so entirely opposite of him. But maybe it shouldn't baffle him because before he turned all cold and sour, he and Mercedes were very much alike. They were both fabulous, their mere presence demanding attention wherever they went. Divas, if you will. But Kurt was more subdued now, practical, whereas Mercedes evolved into a fierce woman to behold.

And as he followed Mercedes through the crowd and into the dance floor, Kurt couldn't help but think that he liked how he and Mercedes changed but remained close. He liked that Mercedes broke the monotony in his life whenever they caught up with each other, introducing him to a world he never dared venture into as a focused doctor. He trusted Mercedes with such great depth that if she said he needed to get laid tonight by some hot stranger, he probably would— because Mercedes cared. And Mercedes hated the moping. And Mercedes wanted nothing more than Kurt to have fun without needing to commit much of himself if he didn't want to. She knew to respect Kurt's wishes while injecting some lightness into his being. She knew how to push Kurt's buttons, and how to go about an issue so that Kurt would be accepting of a suggestion. She wasn't like Quinn or Rachel who worried by fussing over him and convincing him to live a life so unlike his own and make choices completely against his will. No. Her brand of care was a healthy balance between Kurt's wishes and her own. It was a compromise of sorts, a way to push Kurt out of his comfort zone little by little. She knew how much Kurt appreciated that she didn't push.

Downing his drink, Kurt started to feel loose-limbed and ready to tackle a night of dancing and serious groping (at most, he reckoned) with a couple of guys who were blatantly ogling him as he shook his hips in the middle of the dance floor. He only vaguely registered Blaine's face in his head, and what Blaine might think as he ground his ass against a nameless man's crotch. It was like last Friday didn't happen, like he just didn't tell Blaine he wouldn't go out partying and making a fool of himself. What caused the momentary lapse in judgment, he didn't know. All he knew was that he was enjoying himself.

It felt oddly different from the night he went out partying with Blaine. Maybe it was the company. With Wes and David and Blaine, Kurt felt so apprehensive, and so nervous that the alcohol went straight to his brain. But now, he felt so at ease with Mercedes and the idea of letting loose that the reckless dancing almost felt like salvation. It was hard to explain, and Kurt, in his inebriated state, didn't bother justifying it.

As the night progressed, he was being offered drink after drink after drink, with Mercedes cheering him on drunkenly as he tongue-fucked said nameless man, hands roaming and searching insatiably against each other's sculpted bodies. It felt different and almost out of body—like some way to relieve tension he didn't know existed had he been sober. And before he knew it, he was awakening in an unknown apartment with a god-awful hangover, a hickey the size of China (no, _Russia_) on the side of his neck, a wincing ache in his ass, and a cloud of shame-filled regret saturating him.

Well, fuck.

How he collected his belongings and stumbled home, he didn't know. All he knew was that the lights were too bright, and there was a sinking feeling in his gut with each step he took. Kurt Hummel did not do one-night stands. He had standards. He had high, high (_extremely high_) standards that he managed to keep for almost a decade now. And in just one night, he had completely abandoned those standards, those principles, in favor of a quick fuck with someone he didn't even know. Words couldn't even describe how disappointed and angry he was at himself.

What was worse was that he felt like he was somewhat cheating on Blaine because dear God, he loved him (at least he thinks he does) and yet he said over and over again he wasn't ready for a relationship but here he was fucking some random guy in bar.

So much for not being ready.

And just. What the actual hell? _Why_?

But oh fuck. Blaine. Blaine would surely know, seeing that he was walking with a pretty obvious limp and a glaring love bite he was sure not even his best scarves could cover. What would Blaine think? Would Blaine be disgusted? Turned off? Hurt?

Technically, he didn't owe Blaine anything. Blaine wasn't his boyfriend. Blaine wasn't his keeper. But he _wanted _Blaine, and Blaine wanted him, and everything he had used as reason not to be with Blaine had crumbled around him so failingly, leaving every other argument invalid at all costs.

Not ready my ass. He was ready, and yet, not so. And he was so freaking confused it was hard to concentrate on anything.

Dear god, he was panicking. Even as he stumbled through his apartment, mid afternoon on a Saturday, he felt all of his faults pressing on him like a piston. They were saturating his head and suffocating him all at the same time. It was all _Blaine Blaine Blaine_ and the fact that he screwed things up grandly eating him up from the inside, and he just wanted to curl up in a corner and cry his heart out.

Running a hand through his crazed hair, he made his way to the kitchen, wincing only slightly at ache as he moved, trying desperately to bury the events of last night in some far flung grave in his head.

Upon entering the kitchen, he was met by the distinct aroma of coffee and the sound of someone shuffling around. He found Mercedes pouring some coffee into a mug and smiling mischievously at him, eyebrows wagging in implication.

"Hey, lover boy. How was your night?" she asked lightly.

Kurt just stared. And stared and stared and stared until he all but collapsed on the high stool by the counter and took the cup of coffee gratefully, still feeling his stomach plummet steadily to the ground.

"Mercedes..." he groaned.

"You got a killer hangover I presume," Mercedes smirked, sitting in front of him. "But I'm sure you got a wild night under your belt, considering how much you had to drink."

Kurt cringed visibly. "Mercedes..."

Mercedes furrowed her brow at him in question, noting Kurt's lack of enthusiasm. "You don't seem all that happy."

"That's because I'm not," Kurt replied flatly. Every sound was amplified around him, and even his own voice sounded too loud.

"Why not? You got yourself a good fuck after lord knows how long. I'm sure your dried up testicles are singing a glorious hallelujah right now."

"I would be too if I remembered at least half of last night," he responded, trying not to wince at the throbbing in his head. "But I don't remember a thing after I accepted a second drink from that guy. Fuck, I don't even know the guy's name!"

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You getting laid is reason enough to celebrate. Which is why you're going to finish your coffee, take an aspirin and go to bed. I'll you wake up and we'll celebrate with another night out."

"No," Kurt said immediately, his voice more forceful than he had intended. "No more drinking and drunk sex, Mercedes. I'm done."

"What? Why?" she protested.

"Because I feel terrible, okay? This isn't me. I may not be the most affectionate, emotionally stable person out there, but it doesn't mean I enjoy detached sex. Sex isn't just sex for me. Not since college." That, and he _was _afraid of STDs. He made a mental note to get checked as soon as possible. But that wasn't even his number one concern. It was still Blaine, and good God, Blaine—

Mercedes scoffed, frankly not in the mood to deal with Kurt's bipolarity right now. "Well, you're never going to get any at this rate. You don't have a boyfriend, and you're not even looking for one. If you want intercourse to mean something other than 'just sex' then you better hurry up and find a man because damn it Kurt, your life is sad. Like—really fucked up sad."

She was coming off as completely harsh, but brutally, brutally honest, and Kurt couldn't help but just stare at his coffee cup as she went on. Mercedes was right about certain things, but it didn't mean that he had to agree to _everything_. Yes his life was sad, but he didn't think Mercedes was any better. She skirted from man to man since moving out of uncharted Ohio, and has since been living a life of detached intimacy. Kurt may not be very affectionate, but he had the heart of a romantic too.

"I've stood by and watched you live a half assed life, deluding yourself into thinking you aren't because you're working to find an elusive cure for cancer. And I'm not downplaying that feat, really I'm not. But you gotta get your head out of your ass and stop moping. Stop doing the whole 'woe is me, my mother died of cancer and I was bullied for being gay' thing because that's not Kurt Hummel at all, at least not the Kurt I know. The Kurt I know is strong and independent and willful. This? This right here?" she said, gesturing to Kurt vaguely, "this isn't you. You're a fucking shell, Kurt, and I would hate to see you stay this way just because you're hungover the fact that breast cancer _kills people_."

Kurt never let anybody trample on him, and Mercedes' words cut like a knife right in the center of his heart. She was mostly right, but even that knowledge didn't stop the slight swell of anger in the pit of his gut. Mercedes didn't know half of the things going on.

When he said nothing still, Mercedes sighed and continued a little more gently, aware that she was coming on too strong. "Kurt, you're tackling something larger than life, and that's something I'm really proud of you for. What you're doing? And your dedication? It's completely remarkable. But there's a world outside cancer Kurt, and a life you're missing out on because you're caught up in the loss of someone else's." She paused, taking Kurt's hand. "You have so much ahead of you."

Head bowed and appropriately chagrined, Kurt heaved a heavy sigh. He chose to trample on the anger because he was in no condition to argue right now. "I've gotten an earful out of so many people about this recently," he admitted quietly. "And I get it, okay? I'm working on it."

"Yeah?"

Kurt nodded. "There's... Someone," he continued, sounding resigned. He didn't want to tell her about Blaine yet, but Blaine had been weighing on his mind since he woke up and he just needed to talk to someone about it. "But... I don't know. I can't give myself to him knowing I have so much to work on. I'm so fucked up, and I don't think it's fair if I start a relationship when I'm so half-baked. And after last night? I don't think he'll want to be with me anymore."

"That's ridiculous. If he judges you based on last night, he's an asshole," Mercedes responded resolutely. She was surprised that Kurt hadn't mentioned being interested in someone, but in a way, she understood why he had kept the information from her. Kurt was very protective of things that he deemed fragile. And the relationship or whatever it was he had with this man was the very epitome of that. Squeezing his hand, she continued, "I know you won't be remotely interested in someone who's a douche, so let me just say this. There's nothing wrong with what you did last night. He's not your boyfriend and you're not cheating."

Kurt looked unconvinced. "Mercedes…"

She shrugged. "Loosen up. One more party night. Just get it out of your system and pretend you're in college, living a pretty damn carefree life. I think if you let yourself experience something you've missed out on, you'll be more ready to be with this boy. You'll figure out it's not that hard. There's nothing wrong with what you're doing Kurt," she reminded.

Kurt stared at her for a moment as if she was crazy before resigning himself to yet another party night out. Mercedes wasn't going to back out, and if he needed to appease her just to let her off his back, then so be it.

He was pretty convinced that there actually was something wrong with what he was doing, but one more night out wouldn't hurt. Mercedes was only going to be in town for another night, and he was going to make the best of it. He wouldn't see her for a couple more months, and he wanted to give her as much as he could.

"I don't see the logic behind one more party night, but whatever. You're only gonna be here 'til tomorrow anyway so I might as well just go," he replied resignedly.

"Kurt..."

"It's fine," he said, waving his hand dismissively. He took his coffee cup and stood up, wanting to just bury the memory of last night far, far away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take my coffee upstairs, pop an aspirin and take a nap before I figure out what cosmetic will conceal this monstrosity of a hickey."

Mercedes giggled, swatting Kurt playfully. "Yeah, you do that." As Kurt was walking away, she hollered, "And I think you better take an extra dose of painkillers. Your ass still looks like there's some _monstrosity _shoved up of it."

Kurt glared at her indignantly before he did just that and collapsed on his bed, thoughts of Blaine lingering only slightly in the background of his mind.

_xxx_

If Kurt was entirely honest with himself, he'd admit that some minuscule part of him thought that sleeping with some random man at a club was liberating. Because it was—it was every definition of liberation. He decided that one weekend of full-blown recklessness could actually help him get the stick out of his ass (somewhere in his messed up brain, at least). He wasn't sure about the logic, and honestly, he didn't want to think about it for too long because he knew he'd find fault in his actions. Fault more than reason.

So that was how Kurt found himself in the middle of a different club, on a different night, but with the same destructive routine, dancing and drinking with abandon with some hot gay mess currently feeling him up. But he had a little bit more sense tonight and decided he wasn't going to get as drunk as he did the night before. And he most definitely wasn't going to wind up in some stranger's bed the following day.

No. No more sleeping around for Kurt Hummel. Just good old-fashioned making out under the influence of alcohol. That was that. Mercedes on the other hand? There was no reasonable resolve whatsoever, because she was currently being led out of the club by some guy (Drew?) who obviously intended to sleep with her. Kurt knew that no matter how much he tried to stop her, Mercedes was her own person and could do whatever the hell she wanted. He was just going to be ready with a cup of coffee and a bottle of painkillers for her when she stumbled into the apartment the following day.

Later in the night, the inebriation wore off enough for him to call a cab home, and he collapsed on his bed almost as soon as he caught sight of it. He didn't bother taking a painkiller, or taking his shoes off at the least—only promising that this was the last time he was to ever lose control under the influence. No more.

He had unknowingly decided that after Mercedes left, he would gather the courage and ask Blaine out on a date. He figured he was as ready as he'd ever be, and Blaine had waited enough for the both of them. It was time he did some of the work, and somewhere in his fuzzy head, he found himself excited at the prospect of seeing Blaine's pleasantly shocked face when he asked him out on a date, standing by his office door with a cup of hot chocolate and Blaine's favorite flowers (Gerbera Daisies) in hand. It was a vision that had Kurt passing out with a slight smile on his face.

The following morning, he awoke to the incessant ringing of his doorbell, the sound too loud in his ears as he winced in getting up. His ass was still sore, and his head pounded miserably as he braced himself on the bedside table to help him get up. He figured the person at the door was Mercedes, and she wouldn't be happy with him ignoring her.

So he ignored the pain, took his shoes off at the least, and padded towards the door slowly, shakily opening it to reveal someone so very far from Mercedes.

"Blaine," he said in surprise, blinking against the light as if to prove he was seeing correctly.

Blaine smiled tentatively. "Hey, Kurt," he greeted, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. He let his eyes scan Kurt's appearance, a frown followed by a scowl, followed by an expression of visible disappointment crossed his features. "Looks like Wes was right," he commented.

Kurt blinked again. "What?" he asked in confusion. Okay. It was way too early for mind games.

Blaine's lips transformed into a thin line as Kurt furrowed his brow even more before he gestured for him to follow him inside. Blaine stepped in and shut the door, watching Kurt struggle to walk, an obvious limp from an equally obvious cause slowing the process.

He stifled the growing jealousy and followed Kurt through the apartment, taking in controlled amounts of breaths to calm him down. He wasn't here to pick a fight. Lord knew he had no ground to stand on. But this was Kurt, and Kurt's actions, and he couldn't help the feeling of betrayal now solidly marring his vision.

Making his way to the kitchen, Kurt forced himself to keep awake as he set the coffee maker on, only vaguely aware of Blaine pulling a stool out and sitting down.

"What were you saying about Wes?" Kurt asked distractedly as he settled in front of Blaine, the morning brightness still too much for him. He rubbed his eyes slowly, getting rid of the sleep and tried not to move too much. His brain felt like it was floating, and every three seconds or so, he could feel the urge to throw up.

Blaine kept his eyes trained on the hickey on his neck—one Kurt didn't bother to conceal, feeling inexplicably jealous and angry and sad and disappointed all at the same time. He glared menacingly at it before he moved his gaze to Kurt's face.

"He saw you last night," Blaine replied, trying to keep his voice even. "Said you were drinking and dancing up a storm, among other things," he paused, hoping Kurt didn't catch the bitterness in his tone. "I came by to make sure you were okay."

Kurt stared at him for a long moment, letting Blaine's words wash over him like a tide. "What?" he breathed, still disoriented. His mind was struggling to catch up. He felt so sick he could have dropped dead at that moment and he wouldn't care.

Blaine sighed and leaned back, letting his hands fall on the countertop in frustration. Apparently, hung over Kurt was dense as hell, and Blaine had just reached the end of his patience. "God Kurt, you're so plastered you can't even comprehend the things I'm saying!"

He didn't mean for the words to come out so angrily, or to have his voice escalate in the way it did. But it happened, and Kurt clearly didn't appreciate being yelled at so early in the morning while he nursed a god-awful hangover.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Blaine?" he demanded, wincing at the loudness of his own voice and ignoring the searing pain in his head.

Usually, Blaine had a little more self-control than this, but he couldn't help it. Not when he was so angry he couldn't even explain _why_. Somewhere in the back of his head he knew he had no right to be mad, but dear god, he was so furious at Kurt and at himself that he couldn't hold his tongue down.

"I'm talking about my friend seeing you drunk and making out with some stranger _again_, Kurt. And by the looks of it, you've been doing more than making out," he said bitterly. "I don't understand, damn it. You keep me at arm's length and give me bullshit about not being ready, but the moment you're out and drinking, you practically prance on the first guy who gropes your ass."

Kurt's anger was boiling, and in his hung over state, he was only vaguely succeeding at keeping himself collected. He wanted to slap Blaine, and punch him for making such scandalous insinuations. Yes, recently, every time he went out he ended up with a man, but he'd be damned if those things defined him. He wasn't the kind of man who threw himself at the first person to show him attention, and how dare Blaine think so low of him. He was seething, but he kept his mouth shut because, what the actual hell, he was considering asking Blaine out _on a date_. He was finally ready to put his heart out on the line, and here Blaine was, accusing him of basically whoring himself out whenever he was under the influence. It was so wrong, and none of the words they were throwing at each other were sitting well with him.

When Kurt didn't say anything, Blaine continued his tirade brazenly. "You act all sweet and caring and god damn cold at the same time, and you give me mixed signals like you find some sick pleasure doing it. You're fucking playing with me! You never intended to give me a chance—you just liked to toy around with me because what? Because I'm always there? Because I seem like the kind of guy who would fall at your feet? You're messing up my head and you don't even—"

"Stop making fucking assumptions, you moron," Kurt cut, finally finding some footing. "I'm not toying with you, and I sure as hell am not leading you on. This is me trying to be fucking ready for you, for a serious relationship because I'm so screwed up in the head. I thought you understood! I thought you knew why I was keeping you at arm's length. I'm so self-destructive and I didn't want you to have to experience that. So _I'm sorry_," he said sarcastically, "I'm sorry if I'm trying to be _better_ for _you_!"

And that was just that. He thought Blaine understood. All this time he thought Blaine knew why he was being kept at arm's length. He didn't think it would be something Blaine would throw at him, and use as leverage in an argument, fighting so dirtily it made Kurt dizzy with anger. But apparently, Blaine didn't understand, and he felt like his heart was being squeezed mercilessly at the realization.

"You think you're doing me a favor by screwing around, Kurt? Really? You really must be fucked up in the head if you think you can get it out of your system like that. I get it, you're fucking socially retarded—but you aren't going to get over that by partying all night. You get over that by letting people into your life, and talking it out."

Blaine was being cruel, whether intentional or not, and Kurt could feel his heart physically clench at his hurtful words.

"And thanks to your screwed up logic," Blaine continued, "you just lost the only person willing to wait for you."

You just lost the only person willing to wait for you.

You just lost-

You just-

Kurt was taken aback, his eyes wide as he realized the implication of Blaine's words. For angry as he was, he didn't think Blaine would give up that easily. He didn't think Blaine would drop everything for one single mistake.

"I..."

Blaine shook his head, calming down a little as he breathed in deeply. "I love you, Kurt," he admitted painfully. It was the first he ever said it out loud because it was the first time he felt certain about it. Hearing the words leave his mouth in a less than desirable circumstance pained him so. "I love you and it scares the shit out of me because it's all too fast and I'm too wound up and you're light years away from me. But you're abusing that love and I just... I'm not a martyr by any means."

"You don't... I can't..."

Laughing humorlessly, Blaine stood up and paced the floor. "I love you, god damn it," he said, getting worked up again. "I love you and you're so oblivious and I don't know if this is some sick fantasy of yours. You look at me and I can't breathe, and you touch my hand and say all these nice things and I can't think straight. But Jesus, how many men do you do the same things to when you're drunk? How many of us fawn over you? If all I wanted from you was a quick fuck, then I would have drugged all your coffees a long time ago. But fuck it, I want more than that!

"You're giving me all this bullshit about not being ready, but _you are_. You're ready, but it's freakin' obvious that you don't want _me_, and just—fuck. You're being selfish but god damn it, I love you!"

And with that, he forcefully grabbed Kurt by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a kiss, rough and desperate and tearful. Blaine poured out all of his emotions in that one searing, wet sign of affection, his frustrations and hurts leaking out as he kissed Kurt Hummel for the first time.

But Kurt remained unmoving in shock, almost frozen with fright as memories of one David Karofsky washed over him like a tidal wave. He never told Blaine about him, and tactfully avoided the subject because it still made him feel raw. But right now, it was like he was having a flashback, the memories flashing across his head in rapid succession that it made him dizzy. The kiss was so, so unexpected, and he felt naked and vulnerable and immensely frightened. Violently, he pushed Blaine away and backed up, fear written all across his face as he relived the worst day of his high school life—one that redefined any sort of physical affection henceforth. He would have helped it if he could, but he was stuck, frozen on the spot as he tried desperately to dissociate Blaine's kiss from Karofsky's frantically.

Blaine stared. He stared in surprise and read the panic in Kurt's eyes after being pushed away before he came to the conclusion that Kurt didn't want him. Not at all. He didn't want him. The haunted look in his eyes and the way he remained glued so helplessly confirmed that for him. The sound of his heart breaking was loud in his ears.

When Kurt said nothing, only let stubborn tears escape from his eyes, Blaine collected himself, shook his head in resignation and stumbled out, the echoes of the pain vividly thundering through his mind like a broken record tormenting him.

His final words before leaving were, "I hope you're happy," walking away before seeing Kurt crumple in heap of tears and indescribable pain.

* * *

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the tipping point. I know, it's not what everyone was expecting. I actually kind of hate Kurt in this one (and Mercedes too) because god, the logic is so screwed up. But not really. I can't really hate Kurt. He's just broken and confused. But Blaine. Oh Blaine. Blaine just breaks my heart every time.

Thanks for reading guys! The slow build up has boiled over.


	15. Chapter 11a

AN: So. Yeah. That last chapter was pretty intense. Thank you all for reading and reviewing it. So far, it's the chapter that's gotten me the most reactions so I'll take that as a sign that I did something good enough. Hahaha. Thank you, thank you!

On to the chapter! (I want to say something about it, but I'm afraid of giving the plot away so I'd rather not. Haha). But yeah, just like always, thank you so much!

-I own nothing.

* * *

A myocardial infarction happens when an area of heart muscle is deprived of oxygen, usually due to a blockage of the coronary artery. It's accompanied by pain in the chest radiating to both arms, and may be lethal. A heart attack.

Kurt reckoned a breaking heart felt like a myocardial infarction, except that the pain radiates not only to the arms, but to the head and the mind and the soul, infiltrating every molecule of the body until all you can think about is the agony. He would know this because the instant Blaine left and the fear subsided, he felt his heart break into infinitesimal pieces, the pain comparable to that of losing his mother multiplied a thousand fold.

While the idea of fooling around had felt immensely liberating, there was still a reticent part of himself that felt like he was cheating on Blaine emotionally. It didn't make sense because he and Blaine were just friends, but up until that point, he didn't realize how much he really felt for the man. Hearing Blaine's words so cruel and true made him feel guilty and worthless, and he wanted nothing more than to jump off a bridge and fucking die.

Blaine was right as much as he was wrong. Kurt was leading him on, but not because Kurt found some sick pleasure in toying with someone's emotions. Rather, Kurt was leading him on because he saw a distinct, genuine future for the two of them as soon as Kurt was ready.

Kurt was doing all that he could to be ready for Blaine, no matter how misguided he seemed to be. He couldn't stomach the idea of making a cynic of him, and he was willing to do everything to be worthy of Blaine's affections. But through some misguided attempt at "getting better", he had effectively pushed away the best thing that ever happened to him.

Now that he thought about it, he realized what a painfully stupid idea it was to fool around. It was stupid and foolish and idiotic, and it hurt Kurt's pride to think that he acted without thought.

Blaine had called him selfish. And he probably was. He was so selfish and thought only of his emotions throughout this thing. But wasn't the idea of distancing himself one of the most selfless thoughts Kurt had ever had? He was passionate about keeping Blaine the way he was, unchanged by the cynicisms of the world. If Kurt was selfish, then he would've jumped to the gun and let himself start a relationship prematurely. He would have been perfectly fine with hurting Blaine and causing him much grief over Kurt's own inability to give up control. But he didn't—he cared for him so immensely that Kurt sometimes found it difficult to breathe.

So how dare Blaine accuse him of being selfish? How dare Blaine assume such horrid things without bothering to study the situation in Kurt's perspective? Kurt had always thought Blaine understood, that he knew precisely all the reasons Kurt was struggling. But apparently, Blaine didn't. He didn't understand, and Kurt felt undeniably stupid for laying his heart out on the line like that.

He was so foolish to believe that Blaine was _the one_—that he was worth changing himself for. He had put so much of himself out there, and risked all of his goals at a chance with Blaine, only to be so grandly disappointed. His heart ached at the thought, and he could feel himself turning into an even greater cynic than he already was. Bitterness he didn't know existed slowly started to engulf him, clouding his vision with tears over what could have been with Blaine Anderson.

He was so convinced that Blaine was willing to wait, but now all he could feel was sadness so much deeper than he had ever felt, and a sinking sort of depression. Angry with himself and with Blaine, all he could think about now was how all his struggling had been for naught—because god damn it, Blaine Anderson had _scorned _him.

Blaine and the future he offered seemed so promising; bright and cheery, and for the first time, Kurt found himself _hoping_. He found himself amass with faith and hope that maybe he could still salvage the rest of his life. But he was now facing a darker future than he had once imagined simply because he took a chance. And that made him resent the world even more.

Yes, what he did was wrong. Yes, he was misguided. But he didn't think that one mistake would make Blaine change his mind. He never in a million years thought Blaine would give up that easily. Blaine had been insistent that he would wait, that he would do whatever it took for Kurt to deem him worthy, and Kurt had believed that. He clung to those words like a lifeline, grounding him when he felt like the world was eating him whole. What hurt the most was that he was so willing to give everything up for a man who let him go over _one_ mistake. _One mistake_. He thought Blaine knew he was struggling, and that there was bound to be a healthy amount of stumbling before he got things right. But good lord, he was wrong.

But more than that, more than Blaine's anger over Kurt's actions, Kurt couldn't shake off the way Blaine didn't give Kurt a chance to explain, to respond accordingly to the kiss. He'd been wanting desperately to press his lips against Blaine's for a while now, but Blaine had beaten him to it forcefully that all Kurt could think of was Karofsky, his meaty hands on his face as he tried to kiss him again. Granted Blaine didn't know about the kiss, Kurt reckoned Blaine had the decency to at least allow him to explain. But instead, he walked out, defeated and deflated, leaving Kurt now more sad than angry at the entire situation. Blaine had assumed the worst, and it left Kurt feeling entirely displaced.

At the end of the day, Blaine Anderson didn't think he was worth it, even if he did profess his love for Kurt. Because, well, Kurt may have been a cynic but what he had come to realize about love since his mother's death was this: you don't just walk away from the people you love.

But Blaine had done exactly that.

xxx

"Dr. Hummel?"

Kurt looked up tiredly from the file to see Elise fidgeting by the doorway, wringing her hands in nervousness.

"Yes?"

Licking her lips, Elise spoke with controlled anxiety. "There's an emergency at the hospital, sir. The patient is having some adverse reactions and—"

"Wait, what?" Kurt asked, sobering himself up from his tired state as the words _emergency_ and _adverse reactions _bounced off his head. "What kind of reactions?"

"The patient presented with chest pains when her husband took her to the emergency room early this morning," she explained. "After an MRI they found that the tumor had grown twice its size since she started the clinical trial."

Kurt cursed under his breath. What the actual fuck? This could very well mean a lawsuit for them. But more than the potential legal repercussions, Kurt felt sick to his stomach at the thought of losing yet another life to breast cancer. With a big, calming inhale, Kurt composed himself and stood up, collected his coat and ushered Elise out of the room hurriedly. Action needed to be taken, and he would take it now.

"Walk with me," Kurt instructed as they briskly headed to the elevator.

"Dr. Matthews is looking at the drug combination now, and following up our other trial participants, but this particular patient requires immediate attention," she hurried to explain, keeping pace with Kurt's big strides.

Kurt nodded. "Make sure to tell Todd to keep me updated. Tell Maria to review the literature and let me know if she finds something."

He struggled to keep a level head despite the apparent larval stage of chaos. But underneath the calm, he was panicking. All he could think of was _this isn't happening_. This isn't the fuck happening, but he would be damned if he let the pressure get to him now.

They reached the elevator and Kurt pressed the call button. "I'll head over to the hospital now and go over the file, see what kind of damage control we can do."

Elise nodded, taking note of Kurt's instructions. "Do you need Dr. Anderson with you? He's very good with the patients. He can help you."

Kurt froze instantly, the thought of Blaine sending a jolt of pain straight through his heart. He had been studiously avoiding every thought related to him in favor of burying himself in work because he refused to acknowledge how much Blaine could affect him. He was angry, and so undeniably pained, and he wanted nothing to do with him even if god damn it, he loved the man, finally admitting the fact at least to himself. He had spent the entire week since the fight avoiding everybody at all costs, Quinn included, and working like mad if only to _forget_, and to deny that any of it ever happened. It wasn't that he was letting it boil over. He just… didn't know how to fix it.

Shaking his head as he stepped on the elevator, he looked at Elise with a measured expression. "No, I can handle it. Just make sure we have all the information we need, and then call for a meeting for tomorrow morning."

Elise nodded. "Of course."

Kurt only had time to offer a tired smile of thanks before the elevator doors closed and he was left alone.

Good god, this wasn't happening. They had labored intensively with the research on this drug, and he had a ridiculous abundance of hope placed on it. He was so certain this was going to be the cure, and that the clinical trial would prove that. But if one patient had such an adverse side effect, the odds that the drug will be approved were slim to none. Kurt tried to restrain the bubbling disappointment as he reasoned that he'd need a thorough assessment of the situation before he let his worries get the better of him. Control. He needed control. He had spent his entire life ensuring he was the pilot of every single decision he made, and spent every waking moment working for this cure. He would be damned if he let this obstacle hinder him entirely, especially without a fight.

With his head held high and his heart prepared for the worst, he made his way to the hospital, his mind carefully blank, all thoughts of Blaine pushed to the back corner of his mind. He needed to concentrate on assuaging the damage because that was what control was all about: being presented a problem with an accompanying solution. There was absolutely no room for panic, or hysteria, or worry. And there was certainly no room for Blaine Anderson in this mess.

Pushing aside his emotions, he let the control freak take over, masking his face with a neutral expression as he stepped into the hospital and walked in the general direction of the patient's room.

"Kurt."

Kurt looked up, met by Quinn in her pale yellow scrubs and lab coat, her hair up in a tidy ponytail.

Shucking his own lab coat on and winding his stethoscope behind his neck, Kurt nodded. "How's it looking, Quinn?"

"Not good," she replied with a tersely. "The animal trials on the drug combination all came up clean, but for some reason, Lucy Roger's tumor doubled in size since the trial started."

"Why wasn't this monitored? We monitor all the trial participants," Kurt said with much disapproval, the frustration seeping in his tone. They were very efficient and particular with these sorts of things. If not, the ethics board would have their ass. Kurt's medical license and credibility as a doctor stood on the line with this research, and it frustrated him that a patient's stubbornness and disobedience could very well mean the end of his career.

Quinn sighed. "She hasn't been coming to the weekly checks. If her husband didn't insist on taking her to the ER after some serious chest pains, we wouldn't have known she was reacting so badly to the drug."

Clicking his tongue, Kurt matched Quinn's pace as they walked to the patient's room. "How are the other participants?"

"So far, only Lucy's reacted badly. It's too early to tell if the pharma set will cause more side effects for the other patients. Right now, our main concern is Lucy."

Kurt couldn't help the slight relief upon hearing that only this particular patient was reacting badly to the drug. Given that this was a clinical trial, patients were well aware that the treatment may or may not work, but it didn't stop Kurt from worrying. There wasn't a guarantee that a trial would prove effective, but this was the very reason the trial existed in the first place.

"Do you have her chart with you?"

Shaking her head, Quinn answered. "It's at the nurses' station, but I'm telling you. It's bad." She was never one to exaggerate, and she always called things as they were. In her humble professional opinion, all she could say was that, yes, the situation was bad.

"How so?"

"The chest pains are the tip of the iceberg. Tachycardia early this morning, blood pressure skyrocketed. She's extremely weak, and..." she hesitated, knowing Kurt would flip out at the information. "Acute liver failure."

Kurt closed his eyes and cursed, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off the oncoming headache. It was worse than he thought. Acute liver failure always meant a downward slope for patients, not just cancer patients. Once the liver was affected, you can expect that every other organ would follow suit. "Why didn't she show up to any of the sessions? She knows we need to monitor her closely. This could have been entirely preventable."

"Let's worry about that later," she reminded calmly. "For now, our main concern is getting her stable enough for surgery."

Sighing, "By the looks of it, she isn't going to make it," Kurt said regretfully. He hated having to say it. "You know this as well as I do Quinn. Once the liver malfunctions, we're in for a steady decline. Anything we do will only make her more miserable at this point."

"Kurt..." She could see it clearly: Kurt was affected. And deeply affected at that. Any patient of his dying of breast cancer made him feel mediocre, and being mediocre just wasn't acceptable.

"God damn it, I feel like a failure," he whispered harshly. With a resolute shake of his head, he turned to Quinn. "Pull off the drug for all the other participants and get them all to a hospital ASAP."

Quinn's eyes widened as she turned her head to fix him with a look of shock. "Kurt, this reaction may only be for Lucy," she reasoned. "The other patients have been responding well to the treatment and—"

"Yes, well, the medical board won't see it that way," Kurt snapped, feeling his whole body slacken with defeat. "We worked so hard on this, Quinn. And I really thought this was it," he admitted in a soft whisper of disappointment.

An acute sense of pity took over Quinn as she rubbed Kurt's back in comfort. She knew how much this clinical trial meant to Kurt. She could only just imagine what it felt like to see something you worked hard for crumble in front of your eyes while you watch helplessly. She herself was feeling extremely downtrodden over the recent turn of events, and if she was feeling the way she was, she would bet Kurt's own emotions were magnified a thousand fold.

"I thought so too," Quinn admitted. "But let's not dwell on that. Let's focus on the issue at hand," she said, her voice quiet and understanding, but firm as well. She needed Kurt to concentrate on the patient and not on the demise of a pharma set they had labored over with research for years in the making. "The cancer has spread, and the only available option right now is surgery and then chemo. But even then, we'll need to get her immune system stabilized so her body can take it."

Shaking his head to regroup, Kurt sighed. "What is she on now?"

"Amiodarone for the narrow QRS complex, and Mucomyst for the liver."

Kurt furrowed his brow in confusion, feeling so drained that his emotions were all over the place. "Mucomyst? Did she OD on pain killers?"

"Afraid so," Quinn responded. "So this entire mess may not be because of our pharma set. We'll keep a closer eye on our other patients, but I really think this is an isolated case."

Kurt nodded in acknowledgment, finally regaining his senses and slipping into doctor mode. And fuck, yes, he was an excellent doctor. Never mind that he was about three paces away from an emotional breakdown what with the issue with Blaine, and now, this. This was what he did best, and he wouldn't let his frustrations get the better of him.

"Alright," he breathed. "Are there any signs of intracranial hypertension?"

Quinn shook her head. "None at the moment, but she's in the ICU so she's well-monitored in case that happens."

"Is she conscious?"

"No. Sedated at the ER."

"Okay," Kurt said as they walked into the locker room. "Put her on Osmitrol if she presents with intracranial hypertension. If it doesn't kick in within an hour, put her on a low dose of Pentothal then we'll see where it goes."

Quinn nodded, digging her hands into her lab coat pockets. She looked apprehensive, and maybe a little out of it, too. Kurt wasn't the only one affected by all of this.

When she didn't answer, Kurt looked up and softened his expression. "How's her husband?"

"Worried," she answered with a shake of her head. "He's been a train wreck. He knows we could have detected the problem had they been religious with the monitoring."

"Well, why weren't they?" Kurt asked as he opened his locker and set his bag.

Shrugging as she took a seat on the bench, Quinn said, "I don't know. They thought it was normal, I guess? They were really hopeful the drug was going to work so they didn't find it necessary to consult with us—even though they knew full well this is a clinical trial."

God, people could be so dense and stupid and infuriating. It was times like this that Kurt wanted to ask whatever higher form existed who the hell created such stupid people. But Kurt couldn't blame them. They hoped the trial would work just as much as Kurt did, except they weren't doctors and decided to play God and risk a freaking life in favor of denial.

Kurt hated that when (not _if_, because Kurt already knew) Lucy expired, she would just be a number to add to the statistics. And Kurt hated that with passion. The thought that a life was reduced significantly to a mere numerical addition to the growing list of people who died of breast cancer angered Kurt. His heart still physically ached when he saw people die of it, especially under his watch. It made him feel like a failure; like he had failed himself, and his mother, and the entire population affected by the disease.

"Have you spoken to him?" he continued, stifling the dread with professional concern.

Quinn shook her head. "No, not really. I'm not very good at dealing with a patient's family, you know that."

"Neither am I," Kurt admitted, unfolding his navy blue scrubs and pulling out his crocs. "But we'll manage."

Quinn looked appropriately skeptical. "Kurt," she reasoned, "the man is a freaking train wreck. He was hysterical earlier this morning. Between the two of us, we won't really accomplish much." Both she and Kurt were clinical, direct to the point, and rarely warm. Well, Kurt was warm and compassionate to patients, but at best, that was when the patient wasn't dying. Now though, with this new concern, Quinn was sure Kurt wouldn't have the patience to explain things thoroughly to the family.

Raising his brow, Kurt turned to Quinn and offered her a bitch face. "And what do you propose we do? We're doctors. It's our duty to inform a patient's family of these things. We took an oath for it. We can't just... Shuck it off for some inexperienced intern to blurt out the news to family. That's heartless."

"Yes, well, we aren't any better than the interns, Kurt," she reminded, leveling him with a gaze so reminiscent of cheerleader Quinn. "Let's face it. We need Blaine."

Kurt turned to her sharply at the mention of the doctor. "No."

"Kurt—"

"No, Quinn," he snapped, his voice firm and leaving no room for discussion. "We won't be bringing another attending in. It's not practical. We can handle this on our own."

"Kurt, Blaine is really good and he can—"

"Quinn!" Kurt exclaimed, half in anger and half in exasperation. He seriously did not need this right now. This wasn't a desperate situation. They weren't in dire need of Blaine. They were more than capable of talking to a patient's family, for Christ's sake.

Huffing in annoyance, Quinn shook her head. "You're so stubborn sometimes, Kurt," she said as she stood up. "We're professionals. We can put our personal lives aside for a patient's welfare. I don't know what the fuck your side of the story is because you've holed yourself up in your office this past week and you haven't spoken to anybody. From what Blaine's told me, you guys are in a mess. But we'll all be damned if we let that affect our work."

Kurt stared Quinn down long and hard before he pointedly took his coat off and set it on the bench.

"Let me change into my scrubs. I'll meet you at the patient's room," Kurt said in dismissal, his tone hard and stubborn but eerily calm.

They didn't need Blaine. If Blaine hadn't joined the research team, they wouldn't even have that option. They were perfectly capable of handling the situation. Never mind that Kurt was studiously avoiding the man. That wasn't the point. The point was they were doctors—extremely talented, capable doctors with _heart_. They were more than equipped to carry the situation through. Talking to a patient's family is hardly the most challenging thing to do.

Quinn took a deep, calming breath to prevent from lashing out and grit her teeth. If Kurt was going to be stubborn, then so be it.

"Fine," she answered petulantly and made a show of walking out of the locker room. She would not match Kurt's stubbornness. That would lead them absolutely nowhere.

When Quinn had left, Kurt sighed and rested his forehead on the locker, clutching his scrubs and taking deep breaths to get a better grasp on the situation and resist punching the wall. Now wasn't the time to argue over Blaine, especially not with Quinn. They needed to focus on the patient whose life was at stake, potentially because of a drug they were responsible for.

With another huff, Kurt straightened up and mechanically put his scrubs and crocs on, pulling his lab coat and stethoscope and arranging himself to look like the professional he was. His personal life needed to take the backseat, and he would do everything to accomplish that.

* * *

So I do have a disclaimer. I'm a med student and we're only just learning about these things now. The drugs I've mentioned and the patient's condition are all what I've read on so far and not based on a real case. So yeah, the patient's health status isn't completely accurate. But I will say that the medical tidbits that start the different chapters are true and factual. In fact, the whole idea of writing this fic stemmed from how I thought medical concepts can apply to daily life. So yeah. There.

And okay. The chapter didn't really fix the fight and I know I introduced a new roadblock. But trust me. It'll work out. :)

Thanks again for reading! You guys rock my socks. (PS Sorry I haven't replied to the reviews yet. I'm a little pressed for time with school.)

Also: I have a bad craving for Green yogurt with lemon curd. Sorry. That's totally random.


	16. Chapter 11b

AN: So I got a couple of positive responses on the previous chapter from a bunch of you who are working in the health field. Honestly, I didn't realize that this would catch the remote interest of anyone who's an expert in health so I'm really, really humbled. I try to make these things as accurate as possible, but I haven't been involved in research and stuff so I'm not sure how it all works. I ask my professors sometimes about the plausibility of my ideas, and they've been pretty helpful in that regard. So yes. I thank everyone who thinks that the med-related concepts in this fic are believable. Hahaha.

Thank you for reading and reviewing the last chapter. We got a whole lot of Kurt there, but this one's a whole lot of Blaine. Hope you guys enjoy!

-I still own nothing. Damn it.

* * *

Most people do not know this, but the calm we experience when we receive a hug is a physiologic response as much as it is an emotional one. Through hugging, we put manual pressure on our parasympathetic nervous system, responsible for the body's functions at rest. As opposed to the fight or flight response of our sympathetic nervous system, the parasympathetic nervous system functions to relax the body, granting it repose amid the different stressors in the environment. The pressure placed upon the parasympathetic nervous system relaxes the body and starts a cascade of peace rolling like waves across the muscles. By hugging a person, we not only offer emotional and physical warmth, but a physiologic means to calm a person on the verge of a breakdown.

And good god, Blaine Anderson needed a hug. A warm, tight hug to at least physiologically calm him down even if emotionally, he was distraught beyond comprehension. Because right now, Blaine was a bitter mess of anger and frustration.

The moment he realized Kurt's stunned expression wasn't about to melt, instead turning into a look so horrified Blaine felt like a monster, he knew. He knew Kurt was terrified. He didn't register that there was a storm behind Kurt's eyes, with a story to go along with it. All he could see was that the kiss was unwelcome, clouded so abundantly with the deep ache he felt after realizing Kurt had once again fooled around drunkenly along the streets of New York.

Logically he knew that his jealousy was unjustified. But he felt justified in that Kurt had, albeit at arm's length, held on to him, that Kurt had responded so well to him and allowed him to believe that they could be something. He honestly felt like he was being led on, and it hurt like hell especially because he had invested so much of himself and his emotions on Kurt.

He was now starting to believe that Kurt really was a cold-hearted bitch—the way everybody thought he was. He was starting to realize that Kurt only cared about himself, and that in his world, nothing mattered but the cure. Everything else was trivial. And being considered _trivial _in Kurt's life hurt.

Going against the very reason Kurt had kept him at arm's length, Blaine was slowly becoming a cynic. Just like Kurt. He felt the overwhelming bitterness creep through his veins, changing him in the way Kurt didn't want him to. He didn't know it, but Kurt was trying to protect him from it. Except now, the entire feat was counter productive, leaving Blaine harder of heart than he ever was in his life.

He was so foolish. He was so foolish to think that professing his love for Kurt would change their dynamic. He was foolish to believe that with a little perseverance on his part, Kurt would open up and love him back. But now, all he could see were the shattered, broken pieces of every effort he had exerted to make Kurt see an entirely different world, one amass with hope and love and happiness.

The optimist in Blaine was slowly crumbling, replaced pathetically by a bitter version of the once infallible Blaine Anderson.

xxx

The shrill ring of his phone jolted him out of his angry muttering, pulling him back to reality. He concealed the hurt and schooled his features before he answered the call. He hated dwelling on it because he always found himself needing to punch something. Hard. And relentless. Preferably a punching bag with Kurt's face on it.

"Blaine?"

Blaine furrowed his brow, temporarily forgetting about Kurt. "Todd?" Todd never called him unless it was to ask if he wanted to watch the game that weekend.

"I know it's your day off, but there was an emergency yesterday and Kurt just called a meeting," he said, sounding like he was in a hurry.

Straightening in his seat, he looked at his scheduled patients for the day and sighed. "What happened?"

"One of the trial patients was confined yesterday. Kurt's pulling the drug out—"

"What?" he asked on a breath, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. Wait. _What_?

Todd sighed in frustration. "We haven't pulled it out yet, that's what we're meeting for. But the patient has ALF and it's not looking good."

Shit, Blaine thought. Kurt would be going ballistics right now. Never mind that he was currently in the middle of a mental debate between hating Kurt and loving Kurt. This was Kurt's entire life on the line. "What time's the meeting?" he asked, not even noticing what his first concern was about.

"Kurt and Quinn are already making their way back from the hospital. We should start within the hour."

Not bothering to ask why no one had informed him of the goings on, Blaine nodded and started to gather his things as he held the phone between his ear and shoulder. "Okay. I'll cancel my patients then I'll be on my way."

He ended the call with a click and proceeded to clear his head of thoughts of Kurt as he gathered his coat. He explained the situation to his secretary and instructed her to call his patients for the day to cancel before he left and hurried to the Foundation.

Today, he needed to focus completely on the issue at hand. There was no room for thoughts of Kurt given how perilous the situation was. He boxed everything that reminded of Kurt and shoved the box to some uncharted land in his head, ready to be revisited again when everything was calmer.

Slightly breathless, he headed straight to the conference room where everyone was already gathered, save for Kurt who was missing. Everyone had their researches filed on the desk, ready to present their hypotheses. The murmurs were quiet as he made his way to sit beside Quinn who was looking every bit lost in thought. She appeared to be in a trance—an exhaustion-induced trance he was very familiar with.

He caught his breath, set his briefcase on the desk then turned to Quinn and nudged her gently. "Hey, what happened?"

Quinn looked up, snapping out of her reverie and sighing. "Hey Blaine. I'm sorry no one bothered to tell you," she started apologetically as she sat up straighter, tired and weary from their impromptu overnight stay at the hospital. "Everyone was just running around and we all just sort of—"

"It's fine," Blaine reassured, putting his hand up to stop Quinn from apologizing more. "I know everybody's priority was the patient and the pharma set, and I'm the newest team member so I'm pretty easy to forget. It's no big deal," he said without a hint of sarcasm. "Just tell me what happened."

Sighing, Quinn grabbed the large cup of coffee before her and took a long sip of it despite the heat. "Patient was taken in yesterday morning, presented with tachycardia and severe chest pains. We sedated her, kept an eye on her. We originally thought it was the pharma set that started this whole thing, but her liver started to malfunction and we knew it wasn't."

"Oh man."

Quinn nodded gravely. "We've been trying to stabilize her enough for surgery last night. The tumor's been pressing on her lungs. But she's hypertensive and it's been a struggle."

"How is she now?"

"We left and she was okay. Still unconscious, but stable. But since we got here, Kurt's been out talking to the attending in the charge. They're keeping him posted, and I'm pretty sure Kurt isn't going to walk back in with good news." Quinn sighed again, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms and slackening in her seat. "God, it's been a stressful night."

Blaine nodded wordlessly, thoughts of the stress Kurt was under plaguing his mind, unpacking the box a little from the uncharted land in his head. He was mad, yes, but that didn't mean he didn't care. Unconsciously, he rubbed Quinn's back in comfort and sighed. "How are the other patients?"

"They're all fine," she replied, sounding weary. "Todd and the others scheduled emergency appointments for all of them yesterday afternoon. They're all good."

"Well, that's a ray of light, right?" Blaine asked, trying to be optimistic. "It's an isolated case so it can't be the pharma set."

Quinn was about to reply, but Kurt had stepped into the room, looking tired and worn and so, so defeated. Blaine stared, feeling his heart ache at the sight. For although he had felt such unimaginable pain at what had transpired between them over the weekend, Blaine still loved him. Fucking loved him, even if it was against his better judgment.

God, he wished he could just switch off his emotions for the man before him now, sporting the darkest circles under his eyes and the most hopeless expression he had ever seen him wear. Gone was the cold, unfeeling Kurt. In its place was the saddest man Blaine had ever seen, and he had to physically restrain himself to quell the urge to run to him and embrace him for all it was worth.

Taking a seat at the end of the table, Kurt schooled his features and turned to the doctors across it, all falling silent at Kurt's serious expression. He was a professional, and he would carry that title wherever he went, even when he was breaking apart on the inside.

"As you're all aware," Kurt started without a greeting, "Our patient, Lucy Roger was admitted yesterday morning. Her condition has since progressed to acute hepatic failure due to acetaminophen overdose. We've been trying to stabilize her, and when Dr. Fabray and I left earlier this morning, she was sedated and stable." He paused, scanning the table of doctors with a regretful look as he quelled the queasy feeling in his head. "I got a call from the attending at the hospital just now, and she's unfortunately slipped into a coma due to intracranial hypertension."

Kurt's voice was even and measured, kept calm and collected to produce a facade appropriate for a team leader. He tried desperately not to betray the sinking feeling in his gut, and effectively squashed down the overwhelming urge to ball up and cry at the sight of years' worth of hard work burst aflame in destruction right before his eyes. He knew right there and then that the patient was going to die, and that left him feeling inexplicably empty.

Clearing his throat to steady himself, Kurt straightened his back, unaware of Blaine's concerned gaze intent on him. Slow murmurs echoed across the table as Blaine felt his heart tug in agony. He was sure everybody felt the steady waves of disappointment rolling off of Kurt, but only he was able to see just how much it destroyed him. He could see beneath the collected facade, see all the cracks and crevices slowly widening and deepening until he was sure Kurt would break right in front of them.

But if Kurt was stubborn, Blaine wanted to prove he could match it with defiance of his own. Yes, he was feeling for Kurt, but he decided he would make Kurt do the chasing from now on. He was done and tired and so emotionally spent. If Kurt wanted to be with him, then Kurt had to do the work. He adjusted his posture, set his jaw firmly, and watched Kurt with steady eyes. He wasn't going to give in, and he was going to remain steady amid this most trying time for Kurt. He needed Kurt to seek out the comfort, to reach out and put his heart on the line instead of waiting it out in the quiet. It sounded a little immature, and so, so juvenile, but it was a resolution Blaine had come to for good reason. If Kurt needed him, then Kurt needed to come to him on his own accord. He was done chasing.

"Lucy hasn't been joining us for regular sessions, which is why this has gone undetected. So far, we have no reason to believe that this reaction was due to the pharma set, as none of our other patients have presented with the same symptoms. The medical board hasn't told us to pull the drug out yet, but I'm sure that after they learn that Lucy's in a coma, we will have to extend the research and abort the clinical trial."

With another deep breath, he opened his file, took his pen out, and addressed them with more confidence than he actually felt. "Let's hear your thoughts," Kurt said, thus beginning the lengthy discussion of the case presented, as well as its implications on their research.

Blaine kept silent the whole time, half listening to what the others had to say, and half watching Kurt's body language; the staccato tap of his index finger on the desk, the nervous twitch of his head which he masked with a neck roll here and there, and the lip biting that looked painful enough to draw blood.

Since Blaine had joined very recently, he wasn't as involved with the research as the other doctors were. He dealt mostly with patients and their families because that was indubitably his strongest suit. But even if he wasn't as attached to the research as the rest of the room's occupants were, he felt all the tension and frustration seeping from each person, all wary and tired and all shades of angry. Opinions both quiet and fiery were being thrown across the table, civilized disagreements bubbling and erupting at almost every turn, consequently increasing the stress they were all under.

To his right, Quinn was arguing vehemently about the course of treatment to be taken since the patient slipped into a coma. To his left, some doctor was discussing how they would manage weaning off all the other trial participants from the drug set they were taking, and arguing the merits of stopping it completely to catch any drastic side effect on the body. It was massive chaos contained in a single conference room slowly turning into an African jungle. He could see that everyone was just about ready to pounce on each other, all forgetting that goodness, they were all doctors. _Professionals_. And they should act the part assiduously.

From across the table, he saw Kurt pull his phone out and answer a call, one hand holding the phone to his ear, and the other cupping both his mouth and speaker in order to be heard above the noises the doctors were making. Blaine saw Kurt's expression fall, and then turn cold in a way that made Blaine's spine tingle. Something was amiss. Something more. Something big. The moment Blaine saw Kurt set his jaw in firm defiance to keep his emotions in check, he knew. Blaine knew.

He watched Kurt end the phone call, close his eyes and take a deep breath before he set his elbows on the table and hid his face in his hands. Nobody else noticed, and Blaine just wanted to pry Kurt's hands away from his beautiful face and kiss all the hurt away.

But he couldn't do that. One thought of a kiss, and everything came rushing back to him like a home video on fast forward. He pictured Kurt's stunned expression, then felt his heart sink yet again, reminding him of why he couldn't just rush out and comfort Kurt. For as much as he wanted to hug Kurt and calm him, he had his own heart to protect, and right now, that was more important. He felt just as fragile as Kurt, but more resentful than he had ever been in his life.

He didn't know how it happened, but suddenly Kurt was pushing his chair out and standing up, yelling at the people and—

"Good god, will you all just shut up?"

There was stunned silence across the table as they all gaped unceremoniously at Kurt. They had never witnessed him raise his voice, never seen him angry, never seen him so tired and frustrated that all he could do was yell. The sudden outburst left the room eerily quiet, and appropriately so considering how red Kurt was right now.

From the corner of his eye, Blaine saw the entire room sober up and watch Kurt with morbid fascination as he delivered his piece.

"Arguing will get us absolutely nowhere," Kurt said sharply. "We are _doctors_. We're supposed to be discussing this like the educated people we are instead of trying to figure out who can bark louder. This? All of this arguing? It's fucking pointless," he said as he gestured in exasperation, his brows furrowed in aggravation and his breathing rapid to compensate for the stress.

With three deep inhales, Kurt's eyes set ablaze softened considerably, as if he was trying not to cry. "I just got a call from the doctor at the hospital. Lucy Roger arrested. Time of death is 11:23am," he continued quietly, as if to inject reverence into the very fact that their patient was dead.

Great. Just fucking great. Another death. Another stupid death due to a disease the world would be better to be rid of. It made Kurt want to bawl like a baby and punch the living daylights out of some random person on the street. It wasn't fair. How many more millions needed to die before they even got close to finding that magic drug that could alleviate every suffering because of it? Just—when? He had dedicated his entire life to this and they were still no closer to it.

"The patient is dead," Kurt reiterated, sounding weary as he willed his voice not to quiver. "We'd best be trying to figure the pharma set out, and writing a report on this than arguing about anything else."

Kurt's eyes flickered across the room, and for a moment, met Blaine's concerned gaze. But before Kurt could react, Blaine looked away and studiously avoided looking at Kurt, not seeing the disappointment wash over Kurt's features.

"The patient is dead," he said again, no more than a whisper.

Lowering his eyes to the table, silence engulfed the entire room and left Kurt going from angry, to calm, to just freaking tired of everything. He felt immensely displaced, like he couldn't find his footing in a scenario as this, all the stresses of his life magnified. First the pharma set, then the patient's death, all on top of the issue he was dealing with Blaine. It was so much pressure.

It was subtle at first, the shaking. No one noticed it; they all just looked appropriately chastised as they fiddled with their fingers on their laps. And then the shaking amplified, and before they knew it, strong, infallible Kurt Hummel was choking back a sob and running out of the room, unable to fend off the sinking realization that he had failed at the only thing he believed he was worth for.

* * *

The original idea for that last part was for Blaine to be really bitter and like seriously not care that Kurt was in shams. I realized though how totally out of character that would be, so I chose instead to highlight how conflicted Blaine is too.

Anyway. God. Thanks so much for reading up to this point! I'm seriously overwhelmed by the response because yes, this is my first fic, and yes, English isn't my first language so everything about this story is sort of a guinea pig thing for me. But god, thank you!


	17. Chapter 12a

AN: Goodness, thank you so much for all the feedback on the last chapter! I always adore hearing about what you guys think so thank you so much for that! And now that the slow build-up is almost done, I guess you can say the story is almost done, too. It's drawing to a close. I got this, and maybe two or three more after and then that's the end. So yeah. God, thank you so much for sticking with me through this! You guys are all awesome.

Anyway, this chapter could be unpopular for those are on Team Blaine (yeah, I kinda got the Team Blaine and Team Kurt from the last chapter). But I'm a bit of a romantic so trust me, this should end up being crazily that. Blaine will be a bit out of character here, so you'll have to forgive me. But it'll fall into place I promise! Trust me!

Okay. So yeah. Chapter.

-I own nothing.

* * *

One calorie is the amount of heat necessary to raise the temperature of a system by a degree. It's basic thermodynamics, a fact of science Blaine had shoved at the back of his head, making room for complexities far greater than the definition of a calorie. But he found himself wondering the amount of proverbial calories he'd put in to warm himself up to Kurt again, and Kurt to him, considering the mess they had dug around them.

Kurt's departure had left everyone shell-shocked. He was always the picture of composure and professionalism. The very fact that he raised his voice, and then proceeded to have an outburst with more words than any of them had ever heard him say had signaled them to the reality that Kurt was breaking down.

It was surreal. So entirely surreal, in fact, that no one knew how else to react but to gape unceremoniously at the open door. None of them had ever witnessed Kurt acting beyond painfully decorous, and it left them all feeling displaced. Usually, Kurt was their constant, their anchor, and their rock despite the fact that he never made any emotional connection with any of them. They admired him greatly for his dedication, and knew from his convictions that this, this entire research, was the most important thing in his life. And so seeing Kurt react in the way he did had fueled them to do _something_.

One by one, the doctors had come down from the initial shock and trickled out of the room in order to find a way to assuage the problem, all muttering some sort of excuse. Everyone was affected by the image of Kurt losing his cool. Because he so rarely did, something clicked in their minds and pushed them to find a way to better the situation, if only to never see Kurt that way again. To see their anchor waver before their very eyes was possibly one of the most frightening things to witness.

Finally it was just Quinn and Blaine left in the conference room, Quinn still toying absently with the lid of her coffee cup. Her hair was a mess, and she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but in the confines of such a suffocating situation. She wasn't new to Kurt's outbursts. He used to have them frequently in high school, when his teenage angst sometimes got the better of him. But she hadn't seen that side of Kurt in an invariably long time, and it spewed in her a thousand and one ways to blame the issue for pushing him over the edge.

"Quinn?" Blaine asked tentatively, trying to nudge her to reality. She looked like she was far away.

Quinn sighed, finally fixing Blaine a cold, hard stare after studiously avoiding him since Kurt walked out. "Why didn't you run after him?" she asked with just a tinge of vehemence masked in the quiet of her voice.

Confusion clouded Blaine's expression, not comprehending what Quinn meant by the question. "What?"

"Why didn't you run after him?" she repeated a little louder, turning her body so she was completely facing him, and looking like she wanted to cut a bitch.

When Blaine finally understood what Quinn meant, and then recognized the force and the anger and the frustration and the slight accusation behind the words, he was immediately defensive. Was Quinn coming on to his case for not _chasing after Kurt_? Seriously? It wasn't making sense and it all seemed wrong and what the fuck- _really_?

"Oh, I'm sorry," Blaine scoffed. "I didn't know it was my job to run after him," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Because no. Just- no. He wouldn't take this sort of crap.

Narrowing her eyes, Quinn tried to suppress the anger slowly erupting from the careful confines of her gut. "I know you guys are in a hard place, but why didn't you run after him? Why aren't you more affected by this?"

She was angry. So angry, in fact, that every other emotion seemed magnified. On top of last night's stress, the fact that their patient was dead, and the looming possibility that the research would collapse, she was beyond infuriated that Blaine didn't see the need to be tangible comfort for Kurt. Yes, maybe it was irrational, and maybe she was unjustified in her anger, but good god, somewhere along the way she had expected Blaine to be there for Kurt in spite of their misunderstanding. Maybe it was wrong to lay such heavy expectation on him, but she earnestly (and maybe naively) believed Blaine was different. She had expected, and now she was disappointed, but goodness, was she really wrong to expect this man, this man who claimed to love Kurt, would abandon him in his time of need?

"Quinn, if you wanted me to—"

She cut him off harshly. "Kurt is never like this. Never. I've never seen him lose his cool this way. Everyone is affected. Everyone is freaked out. But you... You're so... Stoic. Like you _don't care_."

And she supposed that was what angered her the most. It was probably forgivable if Blaine didn't run after him and just gave him his space. He could seek him out later. But Blaine was acting like he didn't care. He didn't even flinch when Kurt started yelling. It was like he was completely insouciant to the biggest breakdown any of them would ever witness, and it unnerved her.

Blaine glared at Quinn, slowly feeling ridiculous amounts of frustration creeping up his veins. The only reason he wasn't surprised was because he saw it coming. He saw Kurt square his jaw, saw him school expression, saw everything because he was watching the man so closely. "I do care," he said coldly. "But it's not my job to run after him. I'm done running after him. If he needs someone to be there for him, he has to learn to ask for help. We can't baby him all the time."

Because that was just that. He cared. He fucking cared, and maybe too much. But was he really expected to act on that pain when Kurt so obviously needed to be alone? Kurt was proud, maybe too proud. And Blaine was sure he wouldn't appreciate anyone forcing their way through his issues while everything was fresh. But goddamn it if Quinn was going to accuse him for not caring. He _cared_, and will continue to care because for fuck's sake, he _loved_ Kurt.

But a deep, magnanimous part of himself needed reassurance, needed to know that Kurt cared about him, about _them _just as much as he did. He wanted tangible proof that he wasn't the only one willing to make sacrifices for a relationship to flourish. The small, insecure part of him that was the effect of years of bullying needed some variation of a tender touch, and a gentle push, telling him this was worth it. Kurt wasn't the only one with a fragile heart. Blaine was just as broken as he was. Was it so wrong to want someone to care about him for a change?

Quinn groaned in exasperation. "Don't you get it? Do I really need to spell this out for you? Kurt's research is crumbling. Everything he worked for in his life is slowly coming to a screeching halt—and you're choosing _now _to teach him a lesson? I thought you had more heart than that."

She didn't understand, and she wouldn't. She wouldn't force herself into trying to justify Blaine's behavior. Her heart was weeping for Kurt, and her stomach felt like it was full of lead at the thought of Kurt agonizing over the demise of his life's meaning. Blaine was choosing now of all times to be vindictive, and she couldn't help but feel like he was being selfish.

"Don't you dare lecture me on heart, Quinn. Don't you dare," he said, fed up and all sorts of aggravated at the judgment she was passing. "I felt for him. I felt every hurt and every disappointment and I had to physically stop myself from rushing to him and holding him as if, _as if,_ that could take the pain away. But Jesus Christ, he _hurt _me. He fucking hurt me and I think I'm allowed to wallow in that hurt for a bit, to be angry, to be immature. I can't always be the bigger person. Kurt isn't the only one with a past, or with insecurities. We can't all bend and adjust to his liking all the fucking time."

He needed to leave some for himself. He needed to leave a part of his heart for himself or else he would sure be destroyed by the relentless waves of _Kurt_. If he chose now to leave some for himself, to be a little selfish, then fuck them all. Fuck them all for expecting him to sacrifice things again and again and again for Kurt Hummel. I mean, he would, again, but right now, things were still too fresh and too raw, and it made him more vulnerable than ever. He was fragile, too, and he needed someone to notice that, to see that Kurt wasn't the only one who was lonely and searching.

Quinn stared at him hard, her expression slowly changing from angry, to downright infuriated, to heartbreakingly disappointed. She turned away from Blaine and felt her lip quiver with emotion, a combination of the stress from last night, to the vicarious pain she was feeling for her friend.

"I thought you loved him," she said quietly, her sadness very thinly veiled. "And I really thought you were what he needed."

Blaine shook his head disbelievingly, feeling the stress roll off his shoulders. "He toyed with my emotions, then suddenly I'm the bad guy? Quinn, I love him. I love him and it physically hurts me to see him that way. But he had sex with some random stranger and gave me all this bull about not being ready—my anger isn't unjustified."

But he was slowly coming to understand that it wasn't that. He wasn't angry that Kurt had slept around. No. Goodness knows he'd done the same things in the past, and he was in no position to judge. What was getting him so worked up was that Kurt didn't let him in, that he didn't open up to him, and instead found the need to ready himself elsewhere. God, was he not clear enough when he told Kurt he wanted to be his _everything_? That included being Kurt's sounding board, too. The fact that Kurt didn't think he was enough for him was what pained him so.

"And you think leaving him alone to fend for himself when you know as well as I do that he has the most skewed view of the world is any better? I thought you understood that he needs help, that he's trying to figure out how to let other people in. He's groping his way in the dark for _you_, Blaine. So don't fault him if he's doing things all wrong because when it comes right down to it, he's changing himself for _you_. And I get it. I get that you're angry and pissed off that he slept with someone else but god, Kurt is _broken_. Have some compassion."

Blaine looked away. "Maybe he deserves it," he said, and then quickly regretted the words as soon as they were out. "Oh my god, no. I'm sorry. That was uncalled for and completely untrue."

This was spiraling out of control, and he needed to hold his tongue if he didn't want to say something he would eventually regret. His brain to mouth filter was being obstructed grandly by his need to be difficult.

He was being a dick. Thoughtless and brutish and arrogant and ornery—so unbecoming of the Blaine Anderson he knew. Quinn was right. No matter how things turned out, fundamentally, Kurt was changing himself for _him_. Kurt was _trying_ for _him_. Kurt's intentions were good and pure, and if only for that, he deserved much commendation. But Blaine still insisted on being stubborn, if only because he was pissed off that Quinn was calling him out, regardless of the fact that she was right.

"No one deserves to see their entire life destroyed right before them," Quinn said coldly, knowing that this project was Kurt's entire life. He lived and breathed the research, building his world around it like it was the only thing that mattered. Blaine's words left her feeling all shades of upset at him. "He loves you, Blaine. He wouldn't try to change himself if he didn't."

"He has a funny way of showing it," he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

"Did we or did we not come to the agreement that Kurt is emotionally challenged? We established that Blaine, right at the beginning of this whole thing. Why are you punishing him for it?"

Blaine bowed his head, feeling his ears heat up and his eyes sting and the vexation warp into something melancholy. "I didn't think it'd be this hard."

Quinn stared at him, her blue eyes filled with so much more sadness than Blaine had ever seen them contain. "I'm really disappointed in you, Blaine," she said regretfully, heaving a sigh before she picked her things up and left. Some battles were just meant to be given up.

For a good while after Quinn had left, Blaine kept staring at his hands on his lap, replaying the entire conversation in his head like a broken record. Quinn was disappointed. And it wasn't so much the fact that Quinn was upset at him, but rather the thought that she had legitimate reason to feel that way towards him.

Was he being immature? Was he being selfish? Oh god, in a way he was. He had chosen the perfect time to be stubborn. Kurt was in crisis, and the thought that he was alone now, probably sobbing somewhere and feeling like the biggest loser, made him physically ill.

Hadn't he promised Kurt that he would still be his friend even if Kurt decided he didn't want to be anything more? And hadn't he comprehended from the very beginning just how much baggage Kurt came along with? So then how did he ever justify acting stubborn and angry with him for screwing around? And how did he come to the conclusion that Kurt thought he wasn't enough?

They were all assumptions, and he was punishing Kurt for them. He was punishing him for conclusions he had made thoughtlessly, and that made him feel like a bigger asshole.

For all of Kurt's academic intelligence, the truth of the matter was that he was stupid when it came to relationships. And Blaine had known that. He was well aware of that from the very beginning. But he insisted on finding fault in Kurt's actions, leading him to lash out when all Kurt was trying to do was better himself _for Blaine_.

God, Blaine felt like such a tool. Or more than a tool. He didn't even give Kurt the chance to explain, only jumped to unfair conclusions and called Kurt an abundance of hurtful words he knew he could never take back. He had delved tactlessly into a realm he didn't bother understanding, and Kurt was the one suffering for it.

He loved Kurt. He loved him. Passionately so that it scared the shit out of him. So why did he find the need to hurt him back? To punish him and make him feel crappier than he probably already was? He felt the shame burn him; his heart, his mind, his _soul_, paralyzing him until all he could feel was the hurt he had caused Kurt pressing down on him.

In a matter of weeks, he had found reason in the things he did, and found himself falling hopelessly in love with a man he barely knew. That in itself should have signaled him to Kurt's significance in the grand scheme of his life. So then why did he find it necessary to think the worse of the situation? How had he allowed himself to come to the conclusion that he wasn't enough for Kurt, when there was nothing farther from the truth?

He needed to make things right and repair the damage. He didn't know how, but he had to. His survival depended on it heavily, if only because if he didn't fix things, Kurt would be more destroyed than ever.

But he didn't know how to make things right. He didn't know how to assuage the damage he had indubitably caused Kurt. He wasn't Blaine Anderson anymore. Because the Blaine Anderson he knew wasn't vindictive. He was kind and compassionate and so, so loving, always assuming the best in people even if they hurt him irreparably. The Blaine Anderson he knew never assumed, and never lashed out and released hurtful words for the sole purpose of hurting.

With a shake of his head, he realized disappointingly that there was probably nothing he could do to get back to the same position he was in with Kurt—before he let his thoughts run wild and his insecurities get the better of him. His heart felt heavy and constricting, almost suffocating him. He was a sorry excuse for a man now, and that was more disappointing than anything.

Equipped with his heavy heart, he collected his belongings and trudged out of the foundation, his head hung low in shame. He would be of no use to Kurt now. He didn't deserve him. Kurt deserved more. Kurt deserved someone who understood all of his complexities and was willing to wait, to be patient, and who meant it when he said he'd always be there for him. He had failed Kurt, probably more than he had failed himself.

He let his feet lead him wherever, automatic and robotic, until he found himself standing right in front of the bench he and Kurt had spent time in in Central Park. He repressed the urge to sob and plopped down the seat with a thud, his mind now left carefully blank. He didn't want to think about it anymore. He didn't want to think about how much he screwed up his chances. More importantly, he didn't want to think about how much grievance he caused Kurt. He was sure that if he dwelled on it, he would find the need to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge so he would never cause Kurt distress again.

By the time he allowed himself to be aware of his actions, it was already eleven in the evening, cold and dark even in a city that never sleeps. He was only barely aware of his travel home until he was standing a few paces from his apartment, his mind struggling to catch up with the image before him: a man huddled and shivering on his stoop, looking forlorn and tired and every shade of defeated possible.

And it wasn't until he was standing right in front of the man that he realized it was Kurt, his haunted eyes meeting his, a very clear reflection of the anguish eating him up from the inside.

* * *

Yes. I did. I did make Blaine kinda immature in this chapter. But he redeems himself by slipping back into character. On the show, Blaine is always so mature and perfect and level-headed, and I know that can't always be true. I'm pretty sure he's prone to being a little less perfect, as all of us are. So there. But the beauty of Blaine's character, even on the show, is that when he does slip, he jumps back and admits what he's done wrong and changes (like what happened during Dance With Somebody, where he admitted to sort of doing the same thing with Sebastian, then says Kurt was right about him being distant... and then at the end of the episode complimenting Kurt on his "jauntily placed cap"). So yeah. That's part of Blaine Anderson's charm.

Thanks so much for reading up to this point. Story's almost over, I think. Thank you!


	18. Chapter 12b

AN: I stared long and hard at the blinking cursor before I could find the right words to say here. This is basically it. I mean, there's one more chapter after this but that's totally inconsequential to the plot. This right here is it. I'll save my thanks for that last one, but I will say that goodness, I didn't think I'd even post this story and now here it is. I write a bunch of Klaine drabbles on my iPad and they're all just sort of there. The only reason I decided to post this was because my friend kind of forced me to, after I read an excerpt to her. I will say, though, that I don't regret having my friend practically coerce me into this because I've had the loveliest time writing and editing (and editing and editing) and posting and reading your thoughts. It's been a great adventure for me.

Thank you so much for sticking with me up to this point! You guys are wonderful.

This particular chapter is wordy. So, so wordy. There's hardly any dialogue and it's a lot of Kurt's thought process but yeah.

-Still own nothing.

* * *

A cretin. In medicine, a cretin is a person affected by neonatal hyperthyroidism, a disease that affects the thyroid gland due to an iodine imbalance. In daily usage, a cretin is a general term of abuse that means stupid. Stupid. And Kurt Hummel was a cretin, he was sure of it.

Or at least, that's what he believed. He had locked himself pathetically in his office and collapsed on the ground, his back pressed on the door and his hand covering his mouth in an attempt to choke back a sob. Good lord, he was stupid. So, so stupid for letting things get this far. In a matter of twenty-four hours, he saw all of his hard work collapse and crumble before him, with it his hopes and dreams and the very meaning of his life. He didn't know if that was the end of his research, but that's how it felt like. He had invested so much of himself into this particular drug set, and now that it's been compromised, he felt weak and hopeless and almost unwilling to barrel through.

Oh, had he been thinking clearly, he'd have scoffed at the idea of giving up. This was only a temporary roadblock. He would find a way around it, even start the research from scratch if he had to, but this problem didn't have to be the end of it all. But he wasn't thinking clearly. In fact, everything was a blur: one big ball of darkness, a mass riddled with so much of his anguish that nothing was visible beyond it. He could see no white light, no silver lining, and no angle at which he wasn't being entirely stupid.

In truth, he felt worthless. He felt like he was good for nothing. He didn't value his control just for the sake of it. No. He held control so close to him because control was the only thing he possessed sometimes. When the little amount of hope he had slipped, and when things around him were tough and tumbling over in destruction, control was the only thing he had. Whether it was control of himself or of the situation, it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that he was the captain of the ship, and the ultimate person to decide about what to do.

He wouldn't say it was a moment of weakness because he had thought the decision so very thoroughly, but losing control had led him to the very peril he was in. What made matters worse was the fact that the lost control was voluntary. He had made a conscious decision to let go and let loose, and now, look at where he was. He had allowed himself to lose control to get to know Blaine; to let him into his heart and see a side of himself that rarely came out to play. And then everything spiraled henceforth from there. From the moment he decided Blaine could take a piece of his resolution and have power over him, things went uphill and downhill at the same time.

Had he not lost control, he would have stayed focused. And had he stayed focused, he would have noticed that not all the clinical trial participants were being cooperative, and he could have easily remedied the situation. He would have been more vigilant, paying closer attention to the most infinitesimal details that this wouldn't have been overlooked.

Had he not lost control, he could have prevented the argument with Blaine. He could have stopped Blaine from articulating such thoughtless things because the Kurt Hummel he knew never let anybody step on him. He could have insisted that Blaine listen to him, to his explanation, to the painful story of David Karofsky forcing his meaty hands on his face and kissing him.

Had he not lost control, he wouldn't be in the situation he was in now, broken and admittedly scared.

Good god, he was scared. Scared and forlorn. He could feel the despair running through his veins now, alive and thrumming and pulsating even though there was no cause in the world for it to even exist. He could feel his heart heavy and his throat constricted that it was physically impossible to breathe as his tears cascaded down his cheeks incessantly. Why did this kind of pain exist? And why did he have to go through it again and again? When was it going to be enough? When was the universe going to stop punishing him?

He was stupid. He was stupid for letting his emotions get the better of him, for believing that letting someone into his heart would be a good thing. But he couldn't undo it, couldn't simply forget that Blaine Anderson had stolen his heart and now left him achingly empty.

For on top of his misery over his beloved research falling to pieces was the anguish over Blaine's eyes when he had met them briefly—guarded and stoic and cold. They were almost incongruous to the man Kurt had come to know, his honey eyes a mixture of sadness and anger, making Kurt feel even worse because _he put those there_. He wanted desperately to keep Blaine unchanged, and the plan backfired grandly because now, Blaine was washed with cynicism. His need to protect Blaine had somehow done the opposite, and Kurt was left with the bitter realization that he had failed.

He had now officially failed at everything. He failed at being a doctor for not saving his patient. He failed at being his parents' son because somewhere along the road he had lost their sense of kindness and compassion and heart. He had failed at being a friend because goodness, he had a grand total of four friends, one of which was currently furious with him. He failed at being a lover even before he was actually one because he had lost Blaine so bitterly. And he had failed at being himself, at being Kurt Hummel. He had failed himself.

But damn him and the rest of the world if he thought he wouldn't rise up from the ashes. Damn him and the rest of the world if would let all of this be for naught. He wasn't about to let all this heartache go to waste. He had to make it worth it, had to make it seem, at least to him, that he didn't go down without a fight. Because that wasn't who Kurt Hummel was. Kurt Hummel was a fighter, a fierce and fearless one at that. He had lost control once and he would be damned if he lost it again.

For even if the pain was searing and his heart felt like it had stopped beating, he had not lost himself entirely. He had not lost the very essence of being Kurt, the Kurt even before his mother's death. He would make this right, and he would do it not as the formal, stiff and emotionally detached Kurt he was known as, but as the Kurt his mother, his father, and ultimately Blaine had showed him to be.

By all means, Kurt Hummel was not a cretin. With an angry swipe at his face, he cleared his tears and counted to ten, calming himself enough to stand up on wobbly feet and pick himself up. Pick up the pieces. For once he could feel the determination seeping through his blood in the form of hope blossoming in his chest. It wasn't the end of the world yet. No. It wasn't over until it was, and he would fight to the death to make things right again.

Gathering all his control, and every semblance of sanity he had left, he wiped his face and ran his hands through his hair, huffing out a breath as if to let go of the defeat and welcome something significantly lighter. It amazed him how much better he felt. Nothing was fixed yet. Technically, the patient was still dead, the research was still hanging by a thread, and Blaine was still angry with him. But the world of hope, of taking leaps of faith, of believing in the positive and inhaling optimism slowly allowed him to realize that yes, he was in control, and yes, pain can be used as fuel for something else, something brighter.

Kurt Hummel wasn't a failure either. It wasn't in his vocabulary growing up, and he wouldn't start including it now. He was the best. He was a damn fine doctor, and he knew that if he set his mind to it, he could conquer. So that was what he would do. He would conquer this obstacle and conquer the research. Conquer his fears and work up the courage to ask Blaine for his forgiveness.

He could see now how terribly misguided he was to think a drunken night out would change him. In retrospect, he reflected he was already a changed man. The moment he let Blaine in, he had metamorphosed, and evolved into something bigger, into something deeper, into something _more_ than a drunken night out. He was just _more_. He felt more and saw more and _loved _more. He was wrong when he hurt Blaine, and he would spend the rest of his life apologizing if need be, if only to have Blaine's hazel eyes look at him so warmly again, devoid of hurt he had so carelessly put there.

The pain wasn't entirely gone, but it had morphed into a dull ache in the time he spent standing up from the floor to making his way to Blaine's apartment early that afternoon. His steps were measured, but he was a man on a mission. He wasn't about to entertain the idea that Blaine wouldn't want him. He was going to make things right, and he would start with Blaine.

He realized with a gasp that he felt more pain over Blaine than pain over the research going awry. It awed him to think that Blaine was more important than the thing he had spent his entire life working on. It proved to him just how quintessential Blaine was to him now. Because if he cared more about Blaine than about his research, his _science_, then Blaine had successfully conquered his heart so entirely.

The only time he felt his resolve waver slightly was when he found himself now standing by Blaine's front door, unsure of what to do. He was sure Blaine wasn't home, and suddenly he felt like he didn't plan things correctly. Suddenly he had rushed into things without thinking them over, and he felt a little foolish. What was he doing here? What was he going to say? How was he going to explain everything and get Blaine to listen?

How was he going to find the words to convey how _alive _he felt with Blaine, and how important he was to him? How was he going to say that he didn't care about anything anymore, that all he cared about was Blaine? Blaine, just _Blaine_. That his past, no matter how much work he still needed to exert to completely move forward, didn't really matter anymore as long as Blaine loved him?

He sat on the stoop and mulled it over, thought about his mother's death, about Karofsky, about all the bullying and all the times he had momentarily considered taking his own life. Karofsky single handedly redefined physical affection for him, and he shivered visibly at the memory of that kiss. It still pained him. But he tried to squash down the pain with thoughts of his resolutions. He now realized how pointless it was to dwell in the past. He didn't love his mother any less if he let go of her death and lived a little. He didn't value his research any less if he spent time getting to know other people. And it didn't make him a lesser person if he fell in love and found happiness.

It was all rushing to him now—realizations he should have had long ago. They were all lengthily overdue, and they were piling up on him like a tsunami, washing over him as he tried to keep up with the epiphanies.

His face was still carefully blank, his eyes red and his cheeks tear stained, but it hardly mattered. What mattered now was opening his heart up and letting other people in. Letting _Blaine _in.

Blaine. God he had hurt him. He felt the shame burn him, scolding him for destroying the best thing that's ever happened to his life. He would never forgive himself for putting the sadness in Blaine's eyes, for making him a cynic, even just a little. Blaine was kind and warm and loving and compassionate and everything Kurt wasn't. He deserved someone just as wonderful as he was—he didn't need Kurt. But Kurt's heart clenched in agony at the very thought of Blaine with someone else. It hurt him and he couldn't imagine, no, didn't _want _to imagine a future without Blaine.

He was unaware of the passing of time, lost so completely in his head that he didn't notice it was cold and he was shivering and Blaine still wasn't home. He had a light coat on top of his scrubs, and he was freezing. He didn't bother changing after getting to the foundation from the hospital, too focused on the patient to care. But now he was cold and fighting a small amount of self-pity that wanted to overtake him. Very briefly, he considered just coming back the following day, when he was looking less tired and more presentable, and when he had come up with a sufficient amount of things to say. But if Blaine could be persistent and preserving, so can he. Blaine deserved that. Blaine deserved hard work and value, and Kurt would give that to him.

Trying to ignore the darkness around him and the shivering and the potential danger of being in this neighborhood at such an ungodly hour, Kurt brought his knees closer to his chest then wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to warm up. Blaine wasn't home yet, and suddenly, all the elation he felt at his resolutions turned dark.

As if someone had flicked a switch in him, he was melancholy again and worried and cynical. What if Blaine didn't want to see him anymore? What if he wanted nothing to do with him? And what if he couldn't pick the research back up? What if his medical license got suspended? What would he have left, then? What would his life be like? Would this one mistake define him?

He would have nothing.

That thought alone was enough to send his thoughts back to a spiraling fit of depression, soaking his body in the way cold was, leaving him feeling more alone than he'd ever felt before. He would have nothing, and then he would officially be a failure. Officially be worthless. The idea was heavy, and unwelcome, and suffocating.

Once again, he felt the familiar sting at the back of his eyes as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. He wasn't going to sob, good god. He didn't have the energy. He had been up all night caring for the patient, and he'd only had a cup of coffee the entire day. But god, the sadness was enveloping him _again_, overcoming the determined resolve he had created for himself.

He was weak and vulnerable and so immensely tired. The exhaustion was wearing him out, leaving him like a tattered piece of last season's Marc Jacobs collection on an emotional roller coaster ride. The tears were now slipping down, cold and salty against his cheek, a reminder of the bitter realization that he was only worth so much.

All his life, he deluded himself into thinking he was doing something important, something worthwhile. It wasn't even to immortalize himself in the medical field—it was really, completely for the patients. But he had fooled himself thinking he was infallible in his work, haunted by the demons of his insecurities, and this time, he was slipping indefinitely.

And then suddenly he felt someone stop a few paces from him, shaking him out of his pitiful thoughts and jerking his heart aflame. He could tell whoever had stopped was staring it him, eyes like lasers, unrelenting. He was looking down on the concrete, unwilling to look up until the person stepped forward a little more. That was when he could tell it was Blaine. He didn't know how but he could just tell. It was show time.

His heart was beating out of his chest now, willing him to collect every bit of his emotions and scavenge the fleeting courage now hurrying away from him. He needed to remind himself of why he was there in the first place, and how desperately he wanted and needed Blaine to hear him out.

With a slow exhale, Kurt looked up and met Blaine's eyes, his hazel brown eyes cold and unsure and inexplicably sad that Kurt had to look back down. God, he needed to avert his gaze because he wasn't prepared for that—for the onslaught of guilt and pain and the sight of Blaine's eyes full of sadness directed at him. He couldn't. He felt his stomach twist and his heart pound in his ears.

He was teetering on the edge of losing himself in the _no no no, this isn't happening, I didn't change Blaine like that_. He had to remind himself of why he was here, of what he was doing here at eleven in the evening, shivering on Blaine's front stoop with nothing but an apology to offer.

But Blaine stood there before him, wordless and staring and _waiting_. Waiting for something to happen, waiting for him to say something, anything to make the situation better, anything to lift the burden from his shoulders, anything to take the pain away.

Kurt drew in another shaky breath and repressed the urge to shiver visibly, keeping his eyes on the ground. With one gigantic leap of faith, he said with more conviction than he felt, "I was in high school when I got my first kiss. The first one that mattered," he started, his voice hoarse and bordering on pathetic but so full of sadness.

With a humorless laugh, he continued, still keeping his head down and afraid to meet Blaine's gaze. "This Neanderthal had been bullying me for a while now, pushing me into lockers and calling me names and one day I just... Snapped."

He didn't know where he was getting the strength, or gathering the momentum, but he found that even if Blaine remained wordless before him, he couldn't stop. This was a memory that he kept closely guarded. No one, not even his father, knew of this. He had carried the pain over the matter in his heart, left unsaid for so many years that even if he was talking about, it still fucking hurt. "I followed him and yelled at him and told him he was _ordinary_." He paused, feeling the tears gather again, pooling in the corners of his eyes as his lips quivered. He bit his lip. He wasn't going to cry anymore. Not over this. Not over something that happened almost twelve years ago. "And then he yanked my face and kissed me right on the lips—after the hell he had put me through, he kissed me on the lips and stole my first kiss and I just..."

He hated that Karofsky still had an effect on him, that he still mattered. He hated that he couldn't find the right words to say just how unjust it all was—that some closeted bastard who made his life hell took away what was supposed to be a happy memory and replaced it with something that shook the entire foundation of intimacy for him. It wasn't right.

And Blaine. All Blaine could feel was his heart sinking in his chest, first at the sight of Kurt so forlorn on his stoop, and then at the story of how some sick moron assaulted him. More pieces were coming together in his head, finally understanding just why Kurt had reacted the way he did when he kissed him. He could feel the guilt tying him down, paralyzing him as his eyes watered with unshed emotion. He couldn't find his voice, couldn't even find the strength to move. He was floored.

Kurt was so much stronger than he had initially thought he was. And he felt like a bigger asshole now, knowing he had reignited a spark and caused Kurt to revisit a part of his past he wanted desperately to forget. He was sorry—so, so sorry, and all he wanted to do was rush over and gather Kurt in his arms and tell him everything was going to be okay, that he didn't need to be afraid anymore because he was there now and he would never allow anyone to hurt him again.

God, if he had his way, Kurt would no longer have to feel any sort of pain again. He would shelter him and protect him and make sure all he ever was was happy. He would safeguard his heart so that he would never have to feel pain like the one they were both feeling now. His heart was aching and his head was trying to catch up and stay on top of the exhaustion and the stress. Each of Kurt's words were like a knife straight to his chest, the experiences he was relating almost splitting his very soul into two.

But before he could find his voice to express how deeply he felt for Kurt, how much he understood now, how much he wanted to change the past, and how much he regretted everything, Kurt had stood up, wobbling slightly before he was able to steady himself and finally meet his concerned gaze.

Kurt's bright blue eyes were addled with unshed tears, tired and full of guilt and apology he shouldn't have to bear. Kurt licked his lips and looked steadily into Blaine's eyes, feeling more confident than he felt.

"Ask me again, Blaine," he said, his expression almost pleading.

But Blaine didn't understand, didn't think he knew what Kurt was talking about. Furrowing his brow in apparent confusion, he opened his mouth and spoke for the first time that night, his throat dry. "Ask you what?"

"Ask me about the craziest thing I've done," Kurt said, referring to the conversation they had over Thai food, when Kurt realized the potential of having Blaine as more than a friend.

Slow recognition dawned on Blaine's face as he gaped slightly. Was Kurt really asking him to ask that? Now wasn't the time, not really. And hadn't Kurt said he didn't have a crazy story to tell? But Kurt looked almost insistent, and he could deny him nothing after everything he had just said.

Relenting, "What's the craziest thing you've done, Kurt?" he asked, looking wary but hopeful at the same time.

Kurt paused, making sure he was looking directly into Blaine's eyes before he declared, with utmost surety and abandoning every doubt he'd had about it, "It was to fall in love with you."

The craziest thing Kurt Hummel had done was to fall in love with him.

With him.

Blaine Anderson.

Kurt Hummel was in love with Blaine Anderson.

The craziest thing Kurt Hummel had done was fall in love with Blaine Anderson.

The silence that followed was deafening until Blaine recovered and launched himself at Kurt, gathering him tightly in his strong arms and embracing him for all it was worth. No words could describe the elation and the happiness and the excitement over hearing those words tumble out of Kurt's soft lips, echoing every emotion he had felt for Kurt like it was the only thing that mattered.

Finally, finally having Kurt in his arms that way felt like heaven. It felt like everything had fallen into place, like his shifting world had ceased to move and now centered heavily on the beautiful man in his arms, now sobbing uncontrollably on his shoulder and releasing all of the anguish and pain and letting go of the past.

Blaine couldn't keep his own tears at bay as he kissed Kurt's temple and murmured a string of affection, voicing the words he had been keeping in for so long.

"I love you Kurt, god I love you," he breathed into Kurt's hair, inhaling his scent and committing it to memory. He felt every hope return to him, restoring who he was before Kurt, but never wanting to return. He had Kurt now, and he wasn't about to let him go.

After all of the hard work and all of the tears he shed and all the heartache he endured, he was sure as hell never going to let Kurt Hummel out of his sight. He loved this man, and he would spend the rest of his life making sure Kurt found beauty in everything, making sure Kurt knew just how fiercely he loved him.

"I love you too," Kurt choked out, his voice muffled by Blaine's shoulder but still dripping with sweet affection. It was the first time he ever let himself say it out loud. He loved Blaine Anderson, and he wanted nothing more than to yell that fact out at the top of his lungs, to everyone who cared to listen. Because that's just what it was— his heart was bursting with so much love for the man that it was impossible to contain. "I love you, I love you so much, I'm sorry I took so long."

But Blaine shushed him. There would be time for whispered apologies later on. For now, it was about relishing in the feeling of finally finding each other, basking in the glow of completion and security and unadulterated love. He pulled back slightly and met Kurt's teary gaze, quietly giving words to his first attempt at providing Kurt the happiest memories of his life.

"Kurt," he asked slowly, unsure but so willing to ease every heartache. "Kurt, can I kiss you?" he asked with trepidation, not wanting to repeat the same mistake, and wanting instead show Kurt just how much he felt him. He wanted to convey to Kurt the tremendous amount of affection he felt, and the overwhelming sensation of being the center of someone's universe. He wanted to erase Kurt's awful memories about David Karofsky and replace it with the memory of being someone's savior.

Kurt stared, long and hard, shocked before he contemplated how much it would mean to him for Blaine to take all of his anguish, wrap it in a tight bow, and cast it carelessly to the wind with a kiss. With an abundance of trust and hope he never thought he could possess, he cracked a small smile and nodded through his tears. "You don't have to ask anymore, Blaine," he whispered sincerely, all his apprehensions now gone and replaced with certainty.

Feeling his heart swell with the trust Kurt was handing him, Blaine gingerly held Kurt's cheek, slowly drawing him close and tenderly, very tenderly, pressed his lips against Kurt's, all light pressure and light touches but exploding with all the love and care he felt for him.

It was but a mere touch of two lips, light and fluttering and barely there, but full of promise. It was more than philematology, more than their science, more than their medicine, more than the movement of two muscles and more than the culmination of their shared experienced. It was an outpouring of love and promises and devotion, and hope for a future filled with passion and joy.

It was a culmination of their journey, but also a beginning so bright and hopeful that someday, Blaine might rid Kurt of all his pain, and Kurt might learn to lose himself in nothing but Blaine until they were one solid unit, unable to differentiate where one ended and the other began.

And at the end of it all, Kurt Hummel may not have found the cure for cancer, or found a way to prevent it, or found a way to ease the burden of the disease for many a family affected so intimately by it. Not yet at least. But he realized he was okay with that. He was completely okay with that, actually. He realized he wasn't born to slave in a laboratory all day to find a cure for something so much larger than him, to shut the rest of the world out and feel nothing but agony over finding a cure. Rather, he reckoned he was born to love Blaine Anderson, to allow Blaine to love him in return, filling his heart with every shade of joy he never even knew existed. And no matter what people said about how passionate he was about his research, he learned that the only thing he was capable of being enormously passionate about now was Blaine, and _loving_ Blaine, and learning the anatomy of a heart filled with tremendous love.

* * *

Can I tell you a secret? I'm not completely happy with this chapter. I made like... 700 revisions and I just couldn't nail the emotions. This is the best version of the 700 others, I think. But I promise the last chapter, the epilogue (there's a freaking epilogue oh my god) will be a little better.

Goodness. I know I said I'm going to save all my thanks for the last chapter- and I will- but I just wanted to say how much I appreciate that you've been here to this point. I'm still trying to come up with something worth anybody's time, but I suppose this is a good start. Thank you so much guys!


	19. Chapter 13

AN: Okay. Shortest chapter ever because this is the last and it's inconsequential to the plot. I need to put a disclaimer though because I'm not a smut writer. I mean, I really really (unjustifiably) enjoy reading smut but I'm not that confident of a writer to pull something like that off. Not yet. So this chapter is really just fluff. I say that because I was grinning _while_ I was writing this, and maybe that's just the nerd in me talking but really, I was grinning like a maniac.

And this is it, guys. This is, like, the last author's note. Ever. And god, can I just say thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed this story? Thank you guys so much. Thanks for giving this old thing a chance and reading it from the start, and for all the appreciation that came along with it. This took me about three months to write and butcher and butcher and butcher, and I suppose this is the outcome of all those long-ass plane rides I took over my summer break, and all the times I opted not to listen to my professors ramble.

My biggest thanks to, first and foremost, Starsleeper, who literally turned into my fairy godmother in the course of this. Biggest thanks also to sparklyshimmer2010 for all the enthusiastic reviews and for the really helpful writing tips. And just to everyone everyone everyone who's read and reviewed and added this story to their favorites. THANK YOU. You guys sure know how to make a girl feel loved. Thank you!

* * *

Kurt awoke to the sensation of eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, light and comforting against the strong arms wrapped around him. He smiled and leaned in closer, snuggling to the warm body next to him and tangling their legs together.

"Mmmm," he moaned, half asleep as he turned in bed and buried his face in the crook of Blaine's neck, nuzzling it lazily.

Blaine grinned, pressing his lips to Kurt's temple. "Good morning," he whispered, his voice rough from sleep.

"Morning," Kurt murmured, feeling content under the covers in spite of the sun shining just outside the window. "Have you been awake long?"

Breathing in the scent of Kurt's hair, Blaine shook his head. "Not long," he replied. "Just long enough to watch you a bit while you sleep."

Kurt giggled, the sound muffled by Blaine's shoulder, wrapping his arms tighter around his torso. "That's actually pretty creepy."

Humming, "You won't think it's creepy when you hear about what I was thinking while I was watching you," Blaine teased.

Five months. He and Kurt had been officially dating five months—five months since their patient died and Kurt had admitted he was in love with him. Five months since that breathtaking night on Blaine's stoop, when they both allowed themselves to revel in love they had been fighting off for so long. Everything was still so new, so fragile, but so, so euphoric that Blaine was sure he would never trade this for the world. There was a spring in his step, and a lightness in his being he never thought existed as his heart felt every powerful emotion for Kurt. God, he loved him. He loved everything about him, from the things he already knew, to the things he was just starting to learn. It was journey he never wanted to end.

And here, in the comfort of Kurt's bed (in his apartment that was admittedly homier than his), Blaine never felt more complete. He had the man he loved in his arms, strong and passionate about overcoming every obstacle they were trying to maneuver through. He needed nothing else, just the soft press of Kurt's lips on his neck and the breathy sighs of affection that emanated from his mouth every time Blaine found a way to show him he loved him.

"Oh?" Kurt asked, now fully awake but refusing to move his body away from Blaine's. "What were you thinking?"

Blaine smiled, running his fingers lightly on Kurt's back, his finger pads smooth against the soft cotton of Kurt's shirt from the night before. "That you make my dopamine levels soar," he said with a stupidly big grin.

Kurt stilled, and then chuckled as he leaned back a little and gave Blaine an amused smile. "I make your heart beat faster?" he teased, lifting his finger to touch lightly on Blaine's nose. God, this man was unbelievable sometimes. But he would have it no other way.

With a shake of his head, Blaine's grin widened some more, catching Kurt's hand and pressing the fingertip to his lips to kiss lightly. "Not faster," he replied. "You make my heart beat. Plain and simple." To say that Kurt made Blaine's heart beat faster would imply that his heart had been beating in the first place. But it wasn't, not really. He owed the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the comforting thud thud thud that signaled its existence to the man now currently looking at him with adoring eyes.

Kurt's eyes twinkled in response, his smile blossoming as he realized the meaning behind Blaine's words. He was Blaine's world now. The fact that he made Blaine's heart beat meant Blaine lived for him, was alive because of him, and existed to love him fully and unconditionally. It was one of the most humbling realizations he could ever have in his life- to have power over a man, and consequently have this man hold power over him. The ultimate loss of control, but one he was giving up willingly and confidently.

"Blaine…" he whispered, his voice quiet with emotion. God, he loved this man. No matter how unbelievably dorky he could be, no matter how scary it was sometimes to feel so strongly for just one person, he loved him. He never thought it was possible, not in a million years, but here was, completely besotted with one Dr. Anderson who persevered with cups of coffee and hot chocolate and lasagna (and cheesecake, later on). He wouldn't pretend he understood why. Blaine had every right to walk away from him that night on the stoop. But for some insane reason logical only to Blaine, he was here, sharing the same breath and the same space and the same heart with him. God, he loved him. He really did.

Blaine entwined their fingers together and brought their clasped hands to his lips again, kissing softly. Kurt was the reason for everything now—the reason the sun shone brighter and the world seemed more beautiful. Everything was because of Kurt, and without him, god, he didn't feel alive. _Kurt_ made him feel alive.

Grinning, Blaine shifted and stared straight into Kurt's eyes. "Did you know that dopamine levels rise during the attraction phase of romantic love?" he asked, knowing full well that Kurt knew all of this. He just wanted to say them out loud, teasing Kurt with how cheesy he could be sometimes. "It causes euphoric feelings, increased awareness and…" he paused, smiling mischievously and wagging his eyebrows in suggestion. "A tolerance for lack of sleep," he concluded.

Kurt bit his lip to prevent from laughing out loud, but soon his shoulders were shaking and he was releasing a string of melodious laughter in the quiet of the apartment. Blaine beamed, never tiring of the sound of Kurt's happiness filling his senses, making him more aware of how complete he felt with Kurt.

Sex-crazed. That's what they were right now. Lack of sleep implied sex, and goodness, the sex was great. But last night they needed to take a breather because although the sex was fantastic, lack of sleep just wasn't. The intimacy grew at an exponential rate since they started dating, and it went from vanilla and soft and so emotional, to passionate and fiery and adventurous, but always abounding with love and emotion, a physical sign of their commitment. But, for fuck's sake, great sex also meant no sleep (Care for round three? Sure. How about round four? Definitely.), and apparently, at this moment, Blaine seemed recharged enough to go at it again. Maybe it was the years Kurt spent chaste, or all the pent-up emotions he had locked somewhere in his heart, but goodness, the sex was fantastic.

Giggling, Kurt pulled away from Blaine a little and ran his palm across Blaine's side, his warm hand sending shivers down Blaine's spine.

"Hmm," Kurt hummed thoughtfully, his eyes alight with mischief. "Is that so?"

Blaine nodded quickly, his pupils now dilating at the sensation of Kurt's hand drifting lower and lower and lower until it was resting on the waistband of his jeans. Yes. Jeans. They both collapsed still fully clothed the night before, too tired to move after a movie they barely watched and dinner they barely ate out of sheer exhaustion. One minute they were kissing lazily on the bed, and the next they were snoring (so not sexy) and catching up on some lost shut eye, ready for more passion the day after.

"Yeah. You're my dopamine," he answered stupidly, trying to get so much closer to Kurt if at all possible. He could feel Kurt's caresses go straight to his cock, awakening him in a different way.

"Well," Kurt teased, letting his finger slide lightly just underneath the material, running it across the width of Blaine's back. "That's unfortunate. I don't think I'm much of dopamine."

Even in the arousal-induced trance, Blaine's brow furrowed in question. "Why's that?"

Kurt leaned in closer, his mouth just millimeters away from Blaine's ear, his whisper sending more shivers down Blaine's spine and straight to that anatomical region now pressed firmly against Kurt's thigh. "I think I'm more of… _helicase_," he said sultrily, gloating just a little at Blaine's reaction, feeling Blaine's cock hardening against him.

Blaine's breath hitched, inhaling deeply at the timbre of Kurt's voice. "Helicase," he repeated dumbly, feeling Kurt's hand slip to the front of his pants, his finger circling the metal button teasingly.

"Yeah," Kurt whispered, darting his tongue out a little to lick at Blaine's earlobe. "So I can unzip your genes," he declared, popping the button of Blaine's pants and sliding the zipper down slowly.

Genes.

Genes.

Jeans.

_Jeans_.

Oh, fuck.

Without warning, Blaine surged forward and captured Kurt's lips in a fierce kiss, flipping them over so that he was on top of Kurt, his weight steady but not oppressive as he felt Kurt struggle to remove his pants. Blaine responded in kind, letting his hands wander underneath Kurt's cotton shirt, sliding up his ribs until pulling Kurt's shirt over and out was an easy feat.

And just like that, they were both lost in the heat of the moment, in the play of passion transcending all of their doubts and all of their fears and all of the moments they thought their relationship wasn't worth it. The mutual adoration they felt slipped into every crevice and filled every hole and consumed them with such intensity that it was hard to breathe sometimes, and impossible to ignore.

Blaine loved Kurt, and Kurt loved Blaine. And at the end of the day, that was all that mattered. Everything else was just details.

* * *

And this is where I say... so long and goodbye. Over and out, you awesome people! Thank you so much for everything!


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